He sat on the edge of the fountain without looking at the occasional commuter walking by. The morning air blew cold spray from the fountain on his back, like it was trying to make him shiver to the bone. He shrugged as he pulled the fresh bought pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. The same pocket that he used to keep them in. He pulled on the tab and unwrapped the cellophane like he had thousands of times before. Pulled out the center cigarette out and rolled it between his fingers. Remembering the paper will separate if he rolls it too much, he put it in his mouth and opened the new book of matches. Instinctively tore out the match on the far right and lit it. The burnt sulfur billowed around his head as he remembered liking the smell. Brought the match to the cigarette and inhaled.
He remembered his covenant with God about smoking.
He inhaled the smoke into his lungs.
He remembered his family who God had given him..
He inhaled bitterness and anger.
He stood up abruptly. A bus roared by exposing his own reflection to himself and he let the cigarette fall from between his fingers.
The red hat.
Explosions of memories jolted him back into his walk.
~
"Daddy, you're not the man in the yellow hat! You're The man in the RED hat!" his son laughed and grabbed his hat from his head and threw it across the living room. He knew that was going to happen as soon as his son started laughing and looking at his hat. He had been doing this for two years now. Before he even know how to talk.
“What the heck! You can’t throw my hat! Who do you think you are Curious George or somethin?!” He said while pretending to struggle to his feet and go after his hat.
His son giggled and ran to grab the red hat before his father could get there, snatched up the hat and went running down the hall.
~
‘I should have followed him down the hall. I should have chased after my hat. I should’ve played with him more that day.’ Instead of playing with his son more he got in a fight with his son's mother. Not the typical fight that everyone goes huffing and puffing into opposite rooms but the kind where he said everything he knew would cut to the bone. He knew her well enough to know exactly what to say.
The Man in the Red Hat began to slow his pace and run out of breath. Why would God snatch his family from him without so much as a warning? He racked his brain for the millionth time, trying to figure out how God needed them more than he did. What the Man in the Red Hat did not remember is that it wasn’t God who took them away. It is not good for a man to be alone.
