Old Man, Part 1

This is just something I sat down and wrote late one evening. I didn't know what I was writing until the moment I put my pen to the page. It's not something that I'm particularly proud of, but you can tear it apart with your critique as much as you like. That's why I joined YWS, anyways.

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The old man shuffled around in the garden, holding onto the fence as he went along. He couldn't walk if he had nothing to hold on to. If this was the case, he had to use his motorized chair.

In a way, he resented growing old. It wasn't fair to have to slowly die and lose mobility and the freedom to do things without the assistance of an outside source. He couldn't even walk a few yards without running out of breath. He lived on his own, but a cleaning lady had to come by and stay through the day to help him with certain tasks and to do menial work around the house.

In other ways, he considered it a blessing to have been allowed to live this long. It was a gift from God. He may have been impaired in some ways, but in others, he was excelling. His mind was still sharp. He could paint and sculpt. He could garden with little difficulty which is something he loved to do. He helped to keep himself healthy by drinking nothing but water and milk, an having a diet that consisted of mostly vegetables from his very own garden. He ate carrot sticks for snacks and drank milk to promote the strength of his bones. He kept himself updated on the world by having the local news delivered to his house daily, and never failed to do the crossword puzzle with ease. He didn't own a television. He always believed that they were brain-slurping monsters that would melt away your I.Q. in one sitting. Of course, he was a bit prejudiced, being raised in the days of no television and no computer. All he did back then was sit around and read. he also loved the outdoors back then, and still did, even as an eighty-year-old man. He loved to just sit on his back porch and watch the birds and animals go in and out of his spacious garden. He did most of his activities on that porch. He even fell asleep on it, sometimes.

Generally, he was a happy sort of guy. Very glass-half-full and optimistic. One thing that typically got him down was the memories of his dear wife. Theirs had been the classic love story. They met in high school and dated throughout it, married, and had kids, all at a young age. They had bough the house he was living in when they both were twenty, just before their first child was born.

To be continued.