The Passing of Time

Jacoby tosses his bag onto the belt and progresses through the line waiting to board his flight. Another business trip, but not a welcome one after some long, tiring days and too many broken down deals. Shoe laces untied and I.D. in hand, Jacoby can do nothing but wait. Running on fumes, his eyes glass over in a perpetual glare; mind slowing down but with sharp, clear thoughts.

"How did this happen? How did I get here?," Jacoby silently reflects.

A small town boy growing up in a poor family, there was no such thing as opportunity. Jacoby always dreamed of getting out of that sleepy, hillbilly town, but his hopes were not rooted in a displeasure of his life but from a curiosity of his purpose. He loved his family and friends, even the town itself. But questions persisted; wonder about the future and the role he would play in the advancement of history. A day dreamer who would often consider what could be, Jacoby was a thinker, inspired by possibilities. There was something magical about a boyhood filled with almost nothing. There were neighborhood baseball games and an occasional campfire, bike rides and open fields. Apart from the simple pleasures of being a kid, the days were filled with unscripted leisure. Time to imagine, pretend, create and be lost in whatever world he wished.

Pondering these things, memories swirled in his mind prompting questions not unlike the days of his past. Filled with both confusion and awe as the memories flood, Jacoby's stare loosens as the line toward the departure gate inches forward. Suddenly a flight announcement blared and jerked Jacoby's gaze out of focus and his attention back to the line he was standing in. Wondering how long he had been napping, Jacoby guesses it was only a minute or two as the line continued to slither through the terminal.

A man, tall and appearing disheveled, standing just one place ahead of Jacoby, turned around and gazed at the busy activity around him. The man dropped his boarding pass and Jacoby bent down to retrieve the creased card.

"Sir," Jacoby declared in an inquisitive tone. "You dropped this," extending his hand toward the man.

"Oh, thank you. I can't go anywhere without this," the man replied.

"No problem...Where you headed?"

"San Diego...I've got family business out there."

As the small talk persists, Jacoby feels a bit renewed with conversation. Continuing, Jacoby replies, "We're on the same flight. Headed there myself. I've got some clients to check on."

The line to the gate dwindles as the men continue their conversation. Nearing the gate, Jacoby is interrupted by a vibrating pulse from his front pant pocket; an incoming message from his phone.

"Excuse me a moment," Jacoby interjects politely. Reaching into his pocket, he takes out his phone and sees a text from his wife. It reads, "Call me when you land. Go some BIG news!!"

"Sorry about that, it was my wife checking in."

"I understand. Everything OK?," the man responds.

"Yea, she's excited about something. I'll get the scoop later tonight."

"You know what? I didn't catch your name. Mine is Jacoby Kincaid."

"I'm David...David Crosley, nice to meet you."

With mutual pleasure the two men acknowledge their formal introduction with a nod and proceed through the gate. Shuffling their belongings out of their pockets and onto the x-rayed conveyor belt.