It occurred to Pooh and Piglet that they hadn't heard from Eeyore for several days, so they put on their hats and coats and trotted across the Hundred Acre Wood to Eeyore's house.
Inside the house was Eeyore.
"Hello Eeyore," said Pooh.
"Hello Pooh. Hello Piglet" said Eeyore, in a glum sounding voice.
"We just thought we'd check on you," said Piglet, "because we hadn't heard from you, and so we wanted to know if you were okay."
Eeyore was silent for a moment. "Am I okay?" he asked, eventually. "Well, I don't know, to be honest. Are any of us really okay? That's what I ask myself. All I can tell you, Pooh and Piglet, is that right now I feel really rather sad, and alone, and not much fun to be around at all.
Which is why I haven't bothered you. Because you wouldn't want to waste your time with someone who is sad, and alone, and not much fun to be around at all, would you now."
Pooh looked and Piglet, and Piglet looked at Pooh, and they both sat down, one on either side of Eeyore in his stick house.
Eeyore looked at them in surprise. "What are you doing?"
"We're sitting here with you," said Pooh, "because we are your friends. And true friends don't care if someone is feeling sad, or alone, or not much fun to be around at all. True friends are there for you anyway. And so here we are."
"Oh," said Eeyore. "Oh." And the three of them sat there in silence, and while Pooh and Piglet said nothing at all; somehow, almost imperceptibly, Eeyore started to feel a very tiny little bit better.
Because Pooh and Piglet were there.
No more; no less.
Author - AA Milne | Illustration - EH Shephard.
Credit Goes To The Respective Owner
One day I noticed that there was an old black man with white hair picking through the mixed recycling for aluminum. I'm not sure if he is homeless or just poor. After seeing this I started crushing my aluminum cans and placing them in a separate box. Then when I make my glass run I give my cans to the gentleman whose name I found out was Curtis. One day Curtis was looking in the box I gave him and he said, "you like the good beer I see." I said that I did and asked him if he enjoyed a cold beer on occasion. He said he did. My recycling run changed again. Now I bring Curtis, my scrap aluminum, two cans of beer and a big bottle of water. You should see him smile when he sees my truck pull up.
He was a good man, I'm going to miss him.
