The relationship between Kenya’s mother and Ronald had blossom in the five year span to something beautiful. Ronald referred to Mrs. Jones as “Mom”. She cared for Ronald because she knew he cared for others; Mrs. Jones was one of the few people that could see the gold in Ronald’s heart. She was about the only elder woman that Ronald could actually talk to with no fear of judgment. Thinking of Kenya’s mother made Ronald anxious for the dinner, so you can see his feeling for each of Kenya’s parents were night and day.

When Ronald finished measuring the pipe he marked it to be cut; as he was pulling out his grinder a couple of co-workers showed up on his jobsite. “Oh Shabazz, look they over here rolling aw ready,” a skinny young dark skin man said louder than necessary. “Well Roshaun, I see you ain’t changed over the weekend,” Ronald said as he dapped up Roshaun. “As Salaam Alaikum my brother,” Shabazz greeted Ronald. Ronald often didn’t want to participate in the Muslim greeting, but he didn’t want to offend Shabazz, “Way Laikum Salaam.”

“A, Ronald tell me why my mate got to wear a bow tie on a cotton shirt in the middle of summer,” Roshaun implied about Shabazz. Roshaun was constantly poking fun, especially when it came to Shabazz; Roshaun was a 28 year old kid, and he found entertainment in anything. Ronald tried his hardest not to laugh but he couldn’t help it. Honestly, he wanted to ask the same question, but he didn’t want to disrespect Shabazz’s religion.

“Well I don’t see why you should care what I wear,” Shabazz stated as he became agitated. Ronald thought to himself why would Weise put together two people that were so different. Shabazz was so serious and militant, and Roshaun was comical and passive. Ronald’s theory was that Weise enjoyed to see conflict and definitely like to see a militant Muslim unhappy and dissatisfied. When it was time for Weise to be thought about, Ronald was going to think the worst. The nickname Ronald made up for Weise was ‘Weise the Weasel’ because the man kept a trick up his sleeve.

“A, I don’t care what you wear if you want to burn up than burn up. Just don’t cry to me when you pass out and bust you big ass head,” Roshaun stated than laughed. Roshaun steadily joked on Shabazz with no fear of harm being done to him not because Roshaun was big; it was because Shabazz was small. The man stood five foot four with an oversized head making him easy money any time Roshaun wanted to cash in on a joke. What seemed like all the time, after a while Roshaun ate at Ronald’s patience, like now. Ronald plugged up his grinder that action gave Roshaun his cue to take his childish antics somewhere else.

At lunch time Ronald faithfully wrote in his journal, he usually wrote outside but this day was too hot for that. He felt that the air conditioned office was necessary to be at, at least for thirty minutes. This was his tenth journal, and it was near finished. Writing was Ronald’s passion, he dreamt of becoming a well notarized journalist. The thought of seeing his picture on the front page of the Daily Press with his latest work following it forced him to blush. After the blushing, there was hardcore cold reality slapping him in the face; he had a two year degree in pipefitting. Ronald asked himself, “What relations are there between pipefitting and journalism?”

After thinking about his dreams he then realized why some people refused to dream; if you have no dreams how can any be crushed. Love has many risks in any case no matter what you love so only the courageous can love, especially a dream. Ronald promised himself that he would attend Christopher Newport University to take up journalism once he was financially stable. Thinking of financially stability reminded him again of the possible strike; he clenched his teeth as he visualized his plans moving further back. Presently on his mind was getting this day over with, so he could catch a glimpse of his beautiful wife.