Lohbado ghost

Lohbado walked half way across a bridge and leaned on the metal rail and gazed at the river. The bridge shook under the vibrations of traffic, especially when big trucks drove by. He watched the patterns of sun reflecting in diamond shapes on the water.


    He spent about fifteen minutes looked at the variations of light and shadow on the surface of the river. Fast flowing water under the bridge, the river of life, stream of consciousness, humans change from one moment to the next. After a few decades, one will have changed quite a bit, so as to be barely recognizable. Lohbado at sixty didn’t much resemble the Lohbado at twenty. At twenty, he had more strength and stamina. At sixty his mind was more relaxed. He didn’t feel so overwhelmed. He no longer had to worry about the prospect of finding a career. That part of his life was over. He was on a veterans pension.

    He was in the last part of life, one foot in the grave. It felt good to have that part of his life over. He was no longer in a relationship. Jane Wormsly found another man, more to her liking. He encouraged her to go for it. He wasn't jealous. Jealousy had to be about the most pathetic emotion imaginable. Lohbado missed Jane, but eventually got over it. He’d gotten over several relationships. Most of the trouble was his own fault. He wasn't exactly easy to live with. It made him tired to think back on all the ups and downs. He was glad that part of his life was over. One foot in the grave, rest in peace, the turmoil of survival, his body would soon be a corpse. He imagined himself already dead and returned as a ghost, to hang around for a few more years before vanishing into the void. He had all the appearances of being alive. He had a shadow and body odor. But he felt like a ghost, like he was already dead.

    Lohbado laughed at the thought of being dead and only existing as a ghost. It lightened things up. There was no answer to the riddle of existence. He shuddered to think back on his life, so much suffering and confusion. Most people were suffering and confused.
   
    “I’m a ghost,” he said to the river, “Or rather, I’m not anything, except Lohbado on a bridge, talking nonsense and thinking silly thoughts.”