Life had not gotten better for Mark, my drug-damaged acquaintance. A couple of days ago I noticed a commotion. Several Sheriff cars and two fire trucks. As I approached I saw six or seven officers standing around a person on the ground. The person lifted his head and I recognized Mark restrained on the dirt.

I had no idea what had happened and chose not to get any closer to the confusion. A few days later I looked online at the arrests in the county. There were eight arrests that day. Mostly drunks.

Mark had been arrested for possession of controlled substances. And worse, resisting arrest. I have no idea why there were two fire trucks at the scene.

Roman and I had not seen much of Mark in months. Roman had placed some home-made scones in our communication mailbox early in Summer. Mark had never claimed them and I removed the fuzzy mold covered objects a few weeks later. At first we worried about him but life goes on and rarely did his name come up once Summer was in full swing with its busy schedule of kayaking and swimming.

I have tried to consider Mark as a kind of “friend” but I doubt he saw me that way. I have likely been a phantom image combined with perhaps dozens of imaginary ones that float through his daily life. I look for an excuse to not care, to accept that his life is unfortunate but ultimately out of my control. Any of us could have made a stupid mistake as kids. Any of us could have been Mark.

I walked into town. Children were already wearing their Star Wars™ costumes unable to wait until Halloween.

A tiny Yoda came running toward me waving a crooked plastic walking stick. He drew it back and hit me in the knee before running off to join Han Solo and Chewbacca. I thought, “Much to learn, little one, you have.”