The Old Man and I

"These weary eyes and wrinkled skin are not from drinking nor folly but from old age, " spoke the old man. As I looked deep at him I saw his loose skin and the bags under his eyes that accompanied the features of face,but all this had been cleverly disguised by his youthful voice and young spirit, but if to see this man (as a stranger walking down the street) you would see a man of age, a man of white hair and old boots. I thought all this without noticing that his eyes were staring brilliantly into mine as if waiting for a reply. "But is that not the most dignifying thing one can say? to not have drowned oneself in liquor when lovelorn or in times of folly?" "That much is true, "He said. He turned his head away from me and gazed into the fire that sat to my left and directly in front of him. Then without warning the mood of the room changed. I began to feel despondent and could feel a slight draft of cold fall air caress my skin. It seemed to me that the once bright warm room was now cold and dark. The only light was the dancing, ocean like flames that filled the coal black stove and escaped through the glass door. Then without any movement from the old mans eyes or head he spoke. "My only wish is when my soul leaves this old body my wife will be strong enough to accept it and that my son will be learned enough to know of my great and endless love for him". I could say nothing. Then the mood of the room changed once more. Now the cold dark room (lit only by the memory of the flame) was old and empty. The fireplace was rusted and no longer carried flame but dust. The once living walls were now lifeless and a home for cobwebs and insects. There was no more a piano nor piled up books. The room was weary and wrinkled but not from drinking nor folly but from old age. Yes, old age.