Walter

Sitting on the park bench watching the people passing him by, Walter could only try to remember what it was like to be young. Time has not been very kind to him. The days when he used to run in the sun without a care as a youth has left his face weathered like a piece of leather. Seeing the lovely couples walking by hand in hand made him grimace as the acid from his stomach leapt to his tongue.

“Betty.” He whispered to himself. Seeing the couples walking by always made him envious of the years that life had stolen away from him and his beloved wife. There she was a soulless body in a polished casket out of pain, and here he was a rickety old man rotting away a little more everyday.

He ran his fingers through what little white stubble he had left on his head, wishing he had all of time back from when he volunteered to work those extra shifts at the factory to get away from her, especially when things were rough. All those years working on his feet haven’t been kind to the joints. Rubbing his knees and looking down at the gnarled limbs he called legs, it was very hard to remember being an all-state football player.

“Couldn’t run a mile for a million on these.” He cursed and stuck his legs still looking down at them. Looking at his war-torn hands the fingers bent, crooked and bulging in all the wrong places, “And you two couldn’t paint a Picasso any better than you could pick up a penny off the floor.” He said as he shook his hands in front of him.

“You get on the floor? They’d have to call the fire department to come get your wrinkled old butt off the floor.” said a deep male voice on the verge of laughter.

“Ah.. Whatta you know you old geezer?” Walter passed back.

“I know it is 3:30 and our chess game is on the other side of the park, and here you sit talking to yourself. Whatta ya waiting for a boy scout to come along and give you directions?” the man mused.

“Bud, we have been playing chess at 3:30 on the other side of the park every Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday for the last five years. Do you think I was really waiting for a boy scout to give me directions?” Walter said as he struggled to his feet.

“Well you couldn’t have been waiting for cookies! Thinking about life again aint ya.” Bud said

“Yeah, and Betty, You know?” Walter said with more inner pain than inner joy.

“Yeah. You know what all this thinking has gotten you? Gotten you to be an ornery old codger who talks to himself in the park waiving his hands around like you are trying to wave down the padded wagon company that only makes stops in the “End of the line” homes, now come on. Let’s go play chess.” Bud said trying to get his old friend out of the depression that he always wallows in.

“Alright Bud. Whose turn is it this time?” Walter asked as they walked towards the other end of the park, just two old friends walking along keeping each other company; one old man walking in regret, and the other old man walking in life.