2006-04-24

Inch worm, inch worm, reveal to me, all the secrets held unto thee

He struggled up the sidewalk and stopped to greet to me, standing in the sun.

'Good morning!' he said. He seemed happy, despite his age and constant state of disrepair.

'Hi there.'

'You wouldn't happen to have the time, would you?'

'Indeed I do. It is just now 12 o'clock.'

'Thank you. I hate to say good morning when I mean good afternoon.'

'Well good afternoon to you, then.'

'And good afternoon to you as well, sir.'

He went on, in the sun, and around the corner and out of my sight. In the meantime I struggled with a wireless connection, wrote some lesson reports, considered a lesson plan for my class on Thursday, thought about maybe moving out of the comfortable shade and into the sweating sun, decided against it, thought some more, and finally opened a book I haven't read for about a week now. As I did so, this old man, this octogenarian at least, struggled back around the corner from whence I last saw him, following on behind his walker like a shadow, or an afterthought, of the solid object itself. He was hanging on in both a figurative and literal sense.

As he approached he again beckoned to me, his eyes pure and still smiling from behind the incredible magnifying power of his thick lenses.

'I say Good afternoon again!'

'It's a wonderful day, isn't it?'

'It is good to get out for a walk. It is good to move around for a bit.'

'I imagine it is,' and laughed.

A moment passed. It might have been an age.

'You have to,' he said, more seriously now, 'because when you stop, that's it.'

I thought about the wisdom in his words.

'Well, goodbye then.' And he inched his walker forward, and he did so as a contradiction of terms: with great ease, but unsteadily, with great concentration, yet gaily. He bore the world no grudge, or if he did, I could not mark it. But in this errand, his walk and greet, walk and greet, constituting (by perspective) both the simplest of actions and also the apogee of his day, he found great pleasure and unmistakable joy. Of this I am certain.

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