Old Age
by Jack Swenson
I see them walking, not every day, but often enough to surmise that they are on their daily constitutional. They are old--as in old old. An Asian couple. They must have a home somewhere near. Often I see them as they pass my house; sometimes I pass them as I drive down the road in my truck. When I spot them, I always greet them. I wave and smile, say hi, good morning, or whatever. If I'm in my truck, I toot the horn. They always smile and nod. The old man carries a cane, and he raises the walking stick high over his head in a salute.
Both of them are stick thin--skin and bones. They wear warm clothes, sweaters, scarves, all year long. They wear comfortable shoes. She has on ankle sox, which make her look like a Fifties teenager.
My friends never stop and talk. They nod and say something, but I cannot understand the words. That may be my fault. My hearing isn't good. I enjoy seeing them, though. They lift my spirits. Sometimes they walk hand in hand, and when I see them thus, I carry the image with me for the rest of the day. This is what love is, I think. This is the way it is supposed to be.
What is their life like, I wonder? They walk, they eat, they sleep. What can they do at that age? Are they too old for life's little pleasures? The answer comes as I pass them on the canyon road one morning. I am in my truck headed for a local business park to go for a walk with a friend. I come up behind the old couple and startle them as I pass. I honk the horn and wave. The old man waves back; the woman stops in her tracks, frozen. Her whey face is blank. In her right hand she is holding a cigarette. She holds it like a cup of tea, with thumb and one finger, the other fingers arrayed like a fan.
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Author's Note
I was inspired by a woman in bobby sox and an old man wielding a cane.
Nice, Jack. Love the image you end with.
I like this piece... It inspires me to sit and write my people watching. Thanks!
Jack , this piece is very touching. It reads like a painting. Reminds me of a couple too. Love the narrator's reflections, "Sometimes they walk hand in hand, and when I see them thus, I carry the image with me for the rest of the day. This is what love is, I think. This is the way it is supposed to be."
This is a beautiful story, beautifully written!
"the woman stops in her tracks, frozen. Her whey face is blank. In her right hand she is holding a cigarette. She holds it like a cup of tea, with thumb and one finger, the other fingers arrayed like a fan."
You seize the moment, Jack. That's what good writing does. It seizes the moment and won't let go.
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I like this glimpse into the narrator and his friends' lives. I feel like I can see it all. Nice work.
Great connection between inspiration and the creative product, Jack.
Well written - "My friends never stop and talk. They nod and say something, but I cannot understand the words. That may be my fault. My hearing isn't good. I enjoy seeing them, though."
Enjoyed the piece.
A quiet, beautiful picture in the most human perspective.
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Jack, Emily beat me to my favorite lines. This is such a lovely bit of work. Even tho I don't know you I feel as if I am seeing so much of you in this. . . Mar
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Jack there is abundant sweetness here. I like it. I'm used to your more piss & vinegar stories, but this is just as good in its own way. I felt very physically in synch with your narrator during the read.
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Yes, you've hit on a great theme with this one, Jack. My wheels started turning, the projector lit up in my mind, and I began to see images immediately: "I see them walking." Your descriptions of them, their actions, and your musing paint a picture, yes, a moving picture, with frozen last frame: "Her whey face is blank. In her right hand she is holding a cigarette. She holds it like a cup of tea, with thumb and one finger, the other fingers arrayed like a fan." Perfectly done.
"Whey face" -- I love it.