Ambrosious
Weaver of Written Worlds
- Joined
- Jun 10, 2000
- Posts
- 6,346
The other day, while out in the yard, I noticed a little old man walking down the street. He was about 70, stooped, and walked with a limp. I noticed him because we were the only two on the block at that time. He had his balding, sun spotted, head fully erect and you could tell by the look in his eyes that he had a destination in mind. His wrinkled face told of 10000 tales, just waiting to be told and his hands showed a lifetime of hard work. They were calloused, and thick as slabs of bacon. He walked with an old man’s gait and slowly limped by my mailbox, where I was cursing at the latest stack of bills. He spoke to me in friendly terms and I spoke back kind of harshly. I didn’t want to be bothered. Here it is Christmas and I don’t need the extra bills rolling in right now, and I sure wasn’t in the mood for idle conversation.
I looked at the man once again and noticed that I had never seen him out walking before.
“Out walking?” I asked.
“Yes, my granddaughter is having a birthday and I promised her I would be here. Her mother, my former daughter in law, was going to pick me up, but her car broke down, so I figured I would hoof it.”
“Where do you live?” I asked.
“Stone Mountain,” was all that he said and the realization hit me that this man had walked 13-17 miles to get to our neighbor hood. I was dumbstruck because people my age complain when we have to walk 3 blocks for cigarettes and beer. He really started me thinking. I let him continue on his journey and took the mail in the house. I puttered around for a bit and went out to the front yard to catch up on some long needed yard work. I felt lazy and oafish for putting off the leaf blowing for so long. I made it a point to stay out in the yard, working, until I spotted the man. I got into my car and timed backing out of my driveway so that I could cut him off.
“Get in,” I said.
“Sir, I thank you, but I can walk,” said he.
“Look, I’m going to Stone Mountain anyway, get in.”
He did. We talked all the way there. He told me war stories, life experiences, and his philosophies on just about everything. I dropped him off at his doorstep and he of course tried to pay me. I wouldn’t accept it and went on my way. I did not have any thing to do in Stone Mountain, it was a ploy, and so I shot back to the house. I went to where his granddaughter lived and asked the mother if I could look at the car. It turned out to need a battery, but she had no money. I sprang for a battery and got her running.
I’ve lost a friend this weekend and she will never be replaced. I’ve also found three new friends: grandpa, mother, and child. What a day to be alive.
I looked at the man once again and noticed that I had never seen him out walking before.
“Out walking?” I asked.
“Yes, my granddaughter is having a birthday and I promised her I would be here. Her mother, my former daughter in law, was going to pick me up, but her car broke down, so I figured I would hoof it.”
“Where do you live?” I asked.
“Stone Mountain,” was all that he said and the realization hit me that this man had walked 13-17 miles to get to our neighbor hood. I was dumbstruck because people my age complain when we have to walk 3 blocks for cigarettes and beer. He really started me thinking. I let him continue on his journey and took the mail in the house. I puttered around for a bit and went out to the front yard to catch up on some long needed yard work. I felt lazy and oafish for putting off the leaf blowing for so long. I made it a point to stay out in the yard, working, until I spotted the man. I got into my car and timed backing out of my driveway so that I could cut him off.
“Get in,” I said.
“Sir, I thank you, but I can walk,” said he.
“Look, I’m going to Stone Mountain anyway, get in.”
He did. We talked all the way there. He told me war stories, life experiences, and his philosophies on just about everything. I dropped him off at his doorstep and he of course tried to pay me. I wouldn’t accept it and went on my way. I did not have any thing to do in Stone Mountain, it was a ploy, and so I shot back to the house. I went to where his granddaughter lived and asked the mother if I could look at the car. It turned out to need a battery, but she had no money. I sprang for a battery and got her running.
I’ve lost a friend this weekend and she will never be replaced. I’ve also found three new friends: grandpa, mother, and child. What a day to be alive.
