Like Old Times?

When members of a gypsy caravan are deathly ill, it is common practice to put them in their own caravan bus to live out the rest of their days. It's not that they're shunned or banished from the rest of the caravan, it's more like no one wants that curse to spread. Sure, we all visit this person, giving food and the gift of talk, but once it gets to that point, he or she is mostly out of sight, out of mind. We've always cut our ties easily, knowing that is how life works and that we must always go forward.

I suppose this is how I differ from my people. I would frequently visit my Uncle Tio, who was one of the unfortunates blessed with his own bus. These visits are when I'd hear those lovely stories I write here or even the life lessons he felt I needed to know at my young age. He would tell me, and it makes sense now, that "Your own person is the most important thing," that I "shouldn't rely on others when you can do it yourself." This was before I was of sound intellect to contradict him and bring up the blessings of love, but the speculative look on my face made him soften, knowing that was the line my train of thought followed. He'd wave his yellowed hands dismissively and wail, "But love! Once you have it, never let it go!" Like so many things I've come to understand, these tidbits were contradictions.

So when one has these two separate tokens to live by, what path will they follow? Will they live day by day, taking and consuming? Or find love and spend time sharing life with another person? Can you really trust another human being? If so, how far can you trust them?

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