He was wearing camouflage pretty much from head to foot. I might have thought he was on his way to some field somewhere but for the slippers. They were camo, too, but they definitely weren't boots. I ran into him at the gas station. He was walking out of the store toward his old blue pickup as I was stepping out of my car. We exchanged glances and then there was a pump between us.
The silence didn't last long. He actually started the conversation, asking jovially how I was doing. "Great," I said, "Never been better." That wasn't exactly true. I've had some kind of a cold all day, but my stock response to such questions recently has been to be exuberantly over-the-top happy, hoping it rubs off.
He just smiled and said I must have gotten a promotion that day, or a bonus. No, I acknowledged. In light of that, I could have been better. But we talked for a few minutes. He had big plans for Saturday, intending to go duck hunting. He was hoping there would be plenty to shoot at, but he hadn't seen many ducks this season. He was probably 50 or 55 years old and a very friendly, outgoing guy.
As he was getting back in his truck, I asked him my question. He didn't hesitate, agreeing so long as I prayed for the ducks to come flying in tomorrow. So that's what I prayed for.
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