Comparison, The Thief of Joy
by 
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By the author of The Faithful Prepper and Zombie Choices
I woke up with a start
Because today, it was the day!
Turkey, corn, taters too
And I’d just like to say
My attitude quickly soured
As I walked down the stairs
For as I walked amongst the preps
All stacked deep in layers
“I need more cans. This radio’s old.”
“And I’ve got to have more books!”
“Look at this old charcoal.”
“I still hope it cooks!”
“This Kelly Kettle has a ding.”
“This battery? Probably dead.”
“And I’ll be too when it’s post-apoc”
“Unless I buy more lead!”
“These med supplies, they’re not legit.”
“Just stuff from Dollar Store”
“The fancy stuff is where it’s at”
So I tossed them on the floor.
All these preps, all this stuff
But these thoughts were in my mind
Sure, yeah, it was cool.
But my stash was way behind.
“My buddy has more. This isn’t enough!”
“And I lost my old bee hive!”
“If I don’t pick up all this slack”
“My family won’t survive!”
“Look at these guys on Youtube!”
“Think of my buddy, Bob.”
“They’ve got more ammo, food, and guns.”
“And they make me feel a slob.”
“They’ve shelves and bins, a storage room”
“That must’ve cost eight grand.”
“If you cannot match Pinterest”
“If it’s not name brand”
“Then are you really prepping?”
“Or just collecting junk?”
My dissatisfaction with it all
Had put me in a funk
My new knife wasn’t cool as Bob’s
To his, mine was just a toy
Comparison had snuck on in
It is the thief of joy
I hopped into my truck
Just to get out. Clear my head.
Drove through the morning fog
Might pick up a loaf of bread.
I wandered through the backroads
The chill air whipping by
Upset with all I didn’t have
Falling for a lie
The grocery store was open
The clerks weren’t happy there
I was off and they were not
To them, it wasn’t fair.
Then as I drove out the lot
A tent, nestled among trees
An old man was sitting there
Trying not to freeze
His beard was grizzled as his face
A weather-beaten man
His clothes were falling all apart
And his skin was leather tan
I continued driving on
Somewhat shocked by what I saw
There’d been more homeless
Than there were last fall
I stopped to get a little gas
That truck can drink it down
Pulled into an open pump
Beside a car rust brown
“Daddy! Daddy! Candy here!”
“We go in? Pretty plee?
The kid beside me asked his dad
He must’ve been ’bout three
I watched his dad watch that pump
A grim look on his face
Candy’s just a dollar
But he said, “Not at this pace.”
Then he looked down at his son
Got down on one knee
Put a hand upon his shoulder
Said, “Listen now, to me.”
“Work’s been pretty rough of late.”
“Your momma’s doctor bills came in.”
“And then there’s the W-9.”
“We’re not getting candy now.”
“Cuz the money’s pretty tight.”
His son had twenty questions
But first he said, “Alright.”
My truck was filled up now
The pump gave off a ‘click’
I hopped on in, heading back
Beginning to feel sick.
I drove off in the fog
Down the winding, Southern road
The wind blew through the window
Someone’s rooster crowed
Lights ahead in the fog
Made me squint and wonder what
Was casting that eerie glow
Off the side, down in the rut.
I slowed down to a crawl
Creeping closer when
I noticed it was a car
Upside down and in
The bottom of that ditch
Steam came up from the front
No one else was around
And a tree did take the brunt
Of the impact of where that car had hit
It was bent around it well
I stopped the truck, jumped on out
I ran hard, but fell
Landing face-down in the ditch
Beside that upended car
A mouthful of leaves as I looked up
To see I wasn’t far
From a mom hanging upside down
Still strapped to her seat
I don’t know how I missed before
But I could hear the bleat
Of a little baby in the back
Strapped into her special chair
“Ma’am! Ma’am! Are you alright!”
I hollered at her blank stare
“A…a…a deer.”
Was all that she could say
“I’m here now, don’t you worry!”
As she unbuckled, crawled my way.
“My baby,” were the first words said
When she laid upon the leaves
Blood came from her nose.
Blood was on her sleeves.
I crawled into the car
Towards the screaming little girl
Tears streamed down her tiny face
Her brown hair liked to curl
Unbuckling the car seat
I gently got her out
Gave her to her mama
But then I had a doubt
That I could phone for help this far
Cell reception here’s real sad
But a cop car pulled by just right then
Saw the wreck, knew that it was bad
He ran on down the hill
Radioed to his dispatch.
I stayed until the ambulance came
And opened the back latch.
Mother-daughter disappeared
In the back of the ambulance
Sirens blazing it roared off
As I stood there in a trance.
Questions came then from the cop
He needed all the facts
I gave them to him again, again
“Thanks,” said Sheriff Max
Climbing back into my truck
Dumbfounded by what I’d seen
Was the momma gonna be alright?
And the baby! You can’t careen
Out of the way for one stupid deer
Mom, what were you thinking?
These thoughts filled my head as I drove
My heart, my heart was sinking
I pulled into my driveway
Opened up the door
Walked into the living room
Sat down on the floor
Turned on the TV
I just needed noise
Drown out all these thoughts
So I can regain poise
The news was the first channel
I just left it there
A Chinese defector, pleading,
I couldn’t take it all
The TV was too much
I turned everything off
I didn’t need that crutch
Then the irony of that morning
Hit me in the throat
After all that I’d just witnessed
Did I miss the boat?
My job was always steady
I sat here in the heat
A holiday for me today
A fridge filled up with meat
I arrived home in one piece
My truck was running fine
Weren’t these blessings mine?
To get wrapped up in the
“Oh no, this ain’t good enough.”
“This gear is all outdated”
“There’s not nearly enough stuff.”
Made me look deeper at my heart
What was wrong with me?
A basement full of preps
The land of the free
Now, there’s nothing wrong with prepping
Or bettering your lot
But the lack of contentment
Was what made me feel like snot
This Thanksgiving is finally here
A day to not get down
Because if you’re feeling envious
Just take a look around.
About Aden
Aden Tate is a regular contributor to TheOrganicPrepper.com and TheFrugalite.com. Aden runs a micro-farm where he raises dairy goats, a pig, honeybees, meat chickens, laying chickens, tomatoes, mushrooms, and greens. Aden has four published books, What School Should Have Taught You, The Faithful Prepper, An Arm and a Leg, The Prepper’s Guide to Post-Disaster Communications, and Zombie Choices. You can find his podcast The Last American on Preppers’ Broadcasting Network.
