No sooner than I passed the first man, I came upon a second, while on my walk to get an iced coffee. This one a friendly, stick-thin, smiling, older African American guy. He grins as he passes me.
"How, how, how much time you get left?"
"About a month."
"That's good! So the baby's what? 5 or 6 pounds now?"
"Yeah, about that."
"What is it - a boy?"
"Yep, little boy."
"Alright! Alright! I was 12 pounds. Number 14 of 18. My mama didn't have no miscarriages. And I'm 72 years old!"
We laugh. We wave goodbye. I wished I woulda bought him a coffee and listened to some of his stories.
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