The Old Guy

There is this old guy who walks on our street.

Our street was not made for walking. There are no sidewalks, and it is long and curvy. Cars need to move to the wrong side of the road to avoid the odd runner or pedestrian. I stopped walking out there with the stroller after a few uncomfortable walks with baby Nicholas.

But this old guy is out there walking in all but the most extreme weather. He is ancient and wrinkly. When cars pass him he waves his cane at them in greeting, without ever raising his eyes or smiling. Old New Englanders do not smile unless forced. They nod.

One day we ran into him at the dump, and of course Steve spoke to him. It turns out he has lived in this town forever, and has seen it transform from a few houses in the woods to the booming metropolis it is now. The population has boomed. He cannot recognize his own home for all the changes, the new roads, the new buildings. I know how he must feel. It's changed since we have move here, and that was only 8 years ago.

Sometimes I realize that I haven't seen the old guy walking for awhile, and I worry that something has happened to him. He might have had a fall, or he might be ill. He might have died. People do, and he is old. But he always pops up a day or two later, just walking up and down the street, going slowly, shaking his cane at the cars that pass.