Writing from Experience

An old man got up from his decrepit chair – watching the Yankee game – to venture upstairs to the computer, his back sore from years of hard physical labor.  He stopped at the back door because it was a fine bright day outside and he knew it would be good just to look upon the scene of his back yard.  There it was, the grass getting tall and slightly swaying, the birdbath in the middle (dry, no birds), the garage with green paint peeling, all bathed in sunlight filtered by a cloud-covered sky and he smiled, twice.  He remembered past times, laying on a lawn chair in that yard feeling the warmth of the sun, sometimes sweating, it was so hot.  Not today though, he felt too old and worn-out.  He shut the door and continued on the way, feeling a twinge of self-pity, but quickly dismissed that, remembering all his brothers and sisters in the human family who had it far worse than he.  This was being alone, like so many others in this world.


Suffering, pain, depression from feeling lonely, this is his lot and he accepts it.  So what?  Add a life to the list of all those gone.


About paulyr2

Single male, b. 1955, U.S. citizen, Italian, Christian, B.A. (Political Science) Seton Hall Univ., M.T.S. (Theological Studies) Drew Univ.
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