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BRAD

A VERY BEST FRIEND TO ALL ... Brad had no brothers or sisters, not at all, was eight years old and not very tall. He lived with his grandfather, who wore a tin foil hat, who sat in a favorite chair patting their fat calico cat. Brad would always sit at the front of the class and wore dark-rimmed glasses without any prescription glass. No one noticed at first, it all seemed fine. No one noticed a thing, until Brad turned nine. He’d say that the room seemed cold and started walking slow and appearing very old. About his aches and pains, he never started to complain. [CHORUS] Brad carried that rare kind of brilliancy — small in stature yet with the weight of years in his eyes — visibly, differently, implicitly. The stillness in him, a quiet dignity. He wore a funny hat, recovered from the school’s Lost and Found. He’d ride on the bus, not really going anywhere, just riding around. Sometimes the bus driver would drive one block further south, just to let Brad off, right in front of his house. Brad started collecting stamps, yet only ones that were blue. His shoes were always shiny, spit-polished, and looked to be old fine quality, kept like they were new. He’d always act tired. It made everyone both laugh and yawn. On Saturdays, he’d be sitting in a chair out on his grandfather’s front lawn. We all listened carefully when Brad sat in the big chair. He’d tell us stories of nothing, straight from out of thin air. Brad told of his adventures each day. The way that he’d tell stories made us all want to stay. [CHORUS] Brad carried that rare kind of brilliancy — small in stature yet with the weight of years in his eyes — visibly, differently, implicitly. The stillness in him, a quiet dignity. Doctors had told him his heart wasn’t strong. That the time he had left wouldn’t be so long. When he went away, it made us all very sad. Although he always seemed much older, we understood Brad. [CHORUS] Brad carried that rare kind of brilliancy — small in stature yet with the weight of years in his eyes — visibly, differently, implicitly. The stillness in him, a quiet dignity. … we all understood Brad. © 2024 Peter W. Collier