Kara-mel

I remember the first time we were introduced. You were an intense fellow, six foot something with long hair and a beard. Black cowboy boots and a cowboy hat (with a rattle snake skin of all things!). My friend brought me over to you and announced "if you both sit together you are Kara-Mel". You looked at her as if she were speaking another language. You said in your gruff voice, "darling, I don't usually understand that kind of humor." Yet we became friends. Who ever thought it to be. You so cantankerous and rougue, me with the a voice that not a one of them takes seriously. But you get me and I get you, and I feel like you saved my life. I had been having a hard time, in a depression I was not quite accustomed to. I came every week to feel alone in a group of 30. I quietly stood by my girlfriend that shines bright as the sun when she walks in a room. It was hard for me to speak, you all knew each other so well. Yet I was secretly longing to be a part of, rather than alone. Things began toppling over on me and I sure as hell didn't need any of you. Then one Sunday I walked in, you had saved me a seat up front. It was a small little act, harldy one that would change a course of anyone's sadness, but God it meant so much to me. From then on we were a Sunday morning team. Feet up on the coffee tables as if we own the room. You make your comments under your breath. I slightly smile and pretend not to hear. I notice how you keep track of who is doing the right thing and who is just pretending. I know when you have been riding. We both are Cubs fans, a sucker for the underdog. You go to a painful place when you talk about Vietnam, I can see it in your eyes. You know that I am a wee bit compulsive, "Was that in the wrong spot for you Monk?" you kid. You never are crude and quite intolerant of anyone giving me a hard time. The day after my cousin died, I was hurting a great deal. I was being approached for a "hug" by an overly friendly regular. You yelled from across the room in your deep mean voice, "Why don't you keep on moving". It was like a bad Western film, you standing there in your hat. But you know, it was exactly what I needed. You always seem to know. You call me out everytime I am off in the world in my head. I have spent a great deal of time there lately, to the point of utter exhaustion. Thank you for knowing me. Thank you for making me feel welcome. Who knew through all of this I would find myself friends with the big scary biker with a heart of gold, and an intelligence not many see. I needed a Mel to my Kara. And although it isn't your kind of humor, I think a crabby old soul like yourself needed a Kara too.