Thursday, 3 January 2013

The walkers

Most days, on my way to work, I see them.  An older man and a younger one, walking. Perhaps father and son. 

Sometimes the younger man is just several steps ahead of the older, but often the time I leave dictates when I see them on their journey and they are often coming up the big hill near our house and the older man is quite a way back.

They never walk together, always the younger one ahead. Which is kind of weird but the younger one is fit and healthy while the older man sort of plods along, head down. No-one knows them in our street but we all notice them and have talked about them. The general view is that it's son and dad, and that dad has to walk for his health.

Last week, I passed the older man sitting on a railing at one end of a small park that cuts through between two roads. The younger man was nowhere and I almost stopped my car but kept driving. I hesitated at the bottom of the hill and almost turned back and then I saw the younger man talking to another man.

I wound the window down and heard him say "forgot his specs, silly bugger" and felt relief wash over me. The younger man gave a bit of a wave and started back to meet the older one. All seemed right again.

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