Excused

A quiet man, a good man. An exquisite artist in watercolor. Self taught. As a sailor, he was excused from chipping paint, swabbing decks, or peeling spuds by lighting up when the Chief Boatswain barked to his crew “smoke 'em if you got 'em.” Excused, he put down his mop his paint brush, or his knife, and smoked. Today, thirty years later, he is dying. He is breathing through a tube in his throat and laying in his bed at home waiting, watching his last football games and waiting.