a man who ran

there was once a man who ran from everything that ever happened in his
life. whenever something went wrong, he wouldn't face it. he was
always running. he ran away from his parents when he was young, and he
moved from place to place, finding all manner of trouble. and then
he'd run again. he lived like this for many years, a drifter taking
odd jobs here and there simply to eat. he never made any real friends
because he didn't stay in any one place long enough to grow close to
anyone. he knew, though, in the back of his mind he always knew, he
couldn't run forever, that at the end of each of us is Death, and
there's no man that can run fast or far enough to escape this last
thing we all face.

he thought about Death often, and it made him want to run, but one day
he looked in the mirror, and stared and looked and realized. he
couldn't remember how long it had been since he had really looked at
himself. and it struck him that all the things he had run from, there
was really only one thing he was trying to escape. himself. and that
in running, he was letting Death win, that each time he was avoiding
letting a piece of himself commit to a moment, he was letting that
piece die. he looked in the mirror and did not recognize himself or
who he had become.

and that's all it took for the man. just one long, hard look at
himself, because after he understood this, he put his roots down and
never ran again.

ghost