Keeping the Wells Pumping

"I am just trying to stay above ground and keep the oil well pumping," said a man in a neon yellow shirt buying a Budweiser at Tater's Exxon Food & Grill in New Augusta, Mississippi. A plastic angel kneels in prayer on the dashboard of a car by the front door. Barefoot boys wearing Hangout wristbands toss out Miller Lite cans, a little wobbly as they walk into the restroom in the back.

Surrounded by Krispy Kremes, pork skins, and beef jerky, a lady leaning on a cane said, "I turn 65 next week but birthdays are sad for me because my husband died in a car wreck five years ago. It was the week before my birthday and this is a hard time for me every year."

The girl ringing us up said, "My Paw Paw died a year ago. I used to talk to him every day. I can't talk to him anymore."

Behind me, a man I hadn't noticed said, "My son committed suicide last month. He was 24. My youngest son. He didn't leave a note and I don't know why he did it. I own the funeral parlor and had to bury my son."

"I am sorry," "God bless you," and "Shit" was all that we could say.

He paid for his drink and chips, got into his white Mercedes and drove away.

The widow followed me to my car. Her name is Marzetta and she said every birthday gets her a little closer to seeing her husband again.

"I am lonely without him."

I hugged Marzetta and told her it was not an accident that we met and it is time for her to celebrate being alive instead of counting down the years until she dies.

In a gas station named Taters people fill up on gas and junk food or pee out their beer and start drinking again. But for one moment, three people with their emotional tanks on empty needed to tell their stories and know someone else cared. Each with a pain so close to the surface that it came out next to an aisle of king-size candy with strangers they will never see again.

Some days it is hard to stay above ground and keep our wells pumping.