By Keith Parker
He did not bother with the umbrella this time. The rain was thin and steady, blurring the edges of his vision.
His shoes made that sloppy sound he’d once found comforting. Halfway home, he passed the diner where he and his wife used to eat scrambled egg sandwiches. The window still fogged in patches. Inside, a waitress laughed, and he waved before remembering that their waitress died a generation ago.
So, he kept walking.
At the corner, he turned left instead of right, just to see how far the street and the rain would let him go before it all ended.
Such a nice story that gave me comfort!
You well capture the bittersweetness of growing old.
Oh, that is bittersweet and beautiful.