Every day

Something that happened 52 years ago.

One step at a time. Put this foot in front of that foot, that foot in front of this foot. Forget about the heat. Ignore the pain that started five minutes after you moved out, the pain in the lower back, the pain that worked its way up your back, to your shoulders and you want to arch your back and transfer the pain somewhere else, except there is no other place, because every place hurts. The hurt is the same pain you put up with yesterday, the day before yesterday, the same pain you will put up with tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. You will put up with the pain until the day, the hour, the minute you climb the ramp and get on the plane that takes you home. And when you climb the stairs on the ramp, you will take the pain with you, a passenger on your back.

You put up with the pain because you don’t have a choice. You put up with the pain just as you put up with the cuts and scrapes and bruises, chipped fingernails and the dirt and grime beneath what’s left of your fingernails, the dirt and grime that won’t wash out maybe until you’re in a place where civilized people don’t have that dirt, that grime.

Every part of you hurts, places you didn’t think could hurt. Your feet and ankles and knees, sure. You walk for a living, don’t you? That’s your sole purpose, to go from here to there, and the only way to get there is to walk. Every part that supports your feet and ankles and knees -- those parts hurt. Your fingers hurt. Your ears hurt. And your eyes, when you haven’t had enough sleep, when you know you could sleep all day and most of the night.

Every part of you hurts, okay?

Ben Nunnery one day said, “My face hurts, Man. My face hurts.”