Two-faced Janus

It felt lighter in the afternoon than it should, for this time of day. January turns itself around like that. The gardener came for the first time in a while, worked his ass off raking beds, blowing down the pavement, hauling away clumps of weeds and mud. I spent 45 minutes driving in to meet my client for a 45-minute meeting, then turned around and drove back home. Worked through lunch until 2, took the dog for a walk, laid back down again for a bit. Reflected on my last job, nine months going into an office: getting there before anyone else, swallowed by the jaws of the day. The gardener was on his own, and I asked where was his partner? A lot of work for just one guy. He asked if I’d ever maintained it myself and I had, I said: but we got too busy, and now we both work from home. He said I’m Danny, and reached out a dirty hand—we shook, and I walked on, wondering what he thought of me and my dog, my sweater and my coat, our house. We’re so much more than we appear to be on the outside, I hope.

About pinklightsabre

Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
This entry was posted in prose, writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to Two-faced Janus

  1. Truth there Bill. That’s what makes getting to know people so interesting. The surprise is what we don’t perceive from our initial glimpse. Or the times we get it totally wrong and find out otherwise!

    Looking forward to lighter days and shorter nights. Soon enough I guess. Regards! Ilona

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Tish Farrell says:

    Some more sharp conjuring.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. rossmurray1 says:

    There’s something plaintive about that last “I hope.” I’m a sucker for a plaintive ending.

    Liked by 1 person

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