...Or the Beginning

The circus was today. I looked in the mirror before I went downstairs to meet my people. "It's no good. Even when I look straight into the milky blue eyes, I can't find myself anymore. When did I stop being me?"

My family never came. I waited in the lobby with Rosemary, but they never came. Rosemary told me she is leaving. She's moving to Virginia to take care of her daughter. She won't be taking care of me anymore.

I left. I took my walker and walked right out of the nursing home. I went to the circus.

A young boy told me I could not get in without a ticket. I had no money but was determined to get in. A man, the manager of the circus, got me in. I told him I was with the Benzini Brothers during the stampede. He said, "Mr. Jankowski, I'm going to get you into the show now before there's nothing left to see, but it would be an honor and a privilege if you would join me for a drink in my trailer after the show. You're a living piece of history, and I'd surely love to hear about that collapse firsthand."

I told Charlie everything about the circus. He was actually interested in my story. The cops came looking for a 93 year-old man who had escaped from the nursing home. Ninety-three. Charlie told them that I was his father.

I'm going with the circus! "So what if I'm ninety-three? So what if I'm ancient and cranky and my body's a wreck? If they're willing to accept me and my guilty conscience, why the hell shouldn't I run away with the circus?"

This is my home. This is who I am and what I will always be.

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