On Siddhartha

I first read this years ago.

I was trying to impress a girl.

I didn’t get it. I was too young. Maybe so was she.

I read it again. I didn’t have to impress a girl.

Still the girls were impressed.

My wife had read this copy before me. The pages are dog eared.

There’s little in terms of plot. Sid just goes from one thing to the next.

But it is reflective of life, though few have his gifts.

Still the girls were impressed.

It is put aside now.

In years the time will come; I’ll pick it up

Again, or pass it along.

The girls won’t matter then.