It’s not something I see everyday: a whistling old man sticking his thumb out for a ride. Pretty sure the first ride he will be offered (or would actually take) is the bus, but I imagine he will be happy with that.
I have no idea what was going on in his mind. Witnessing him made me hope that the older I get, the happier not only will I be, but will be my recollection of the past, however crazy I might appear to be.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
I think it starts with forgiving yourself first. And I struggle with that over and over again.