On the mornings that I drive down the main street that takes me to my physiotherapy, I always see the elderly man in the beige suit. I have seen him on other streets before in that same neighborhood and that simple man has always caught my eye.
He is a skinnier version of Santa Claus with the white hair and beard except that he wears thick black rimmed glasses. The difference between him and good old Saint Nick, besides the weight, is that the man in the beige suit doesn’t seem to be jolly.
Whenever I see him I think: Does he have a family? Is he all alone in the world? Is he heading home or somewhere else? Is he just taking his morning walk? Why does he look so sad? Does he wear a suit every day because that is the way it used to be when he was younger? There are times when he is carrying groceries and others when he is empty handed.
One afternoon I spotted him sitting down on a small stool in front of a bar and dosing off. It was an awfully hot day and he must have felt really stuffy in that suit. He was not drinking anything; he was just trying to stay awake. However, he was not being too successful at it. No one bothered him as they walked by and looked at him. He did not seem to mind being looked at either.
I always see him in that beige suit. Perhaps he only has that one. Maybe it was his late beloved wife who had bought it for him and he wears it so as not to forget her one single moment of his day. I picture him taking it off at when he gets home and placing it in a special place to be worn on the following day. The thought of his having been a lawyer before retiring has also crossed my mind. Old habits are hard to break. If he had had to wear a suit each day of his life, how would he change now?
Maybe one day I will run into him, stop him and chat. He must have wondrous stories to tell and like most senior citizens whom I have met, want to tell them.
copyright ©2012 - Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.
He is a skinnier version of Santa Claus with the white hair and beard except that he wears thick black rimmed glasses. The difference between him and good old Saint Nick, besides the weight, is that the man in the beige suit doesn’t seem to be jolly.
Whenever I see him I think: Does he have a family? Is he all alone in the world? Is he heading home or somewhere else? Is he just taking his morning walk? Why does he look so sad? Does he wear a suit every day because that is the way it used to be when he was younger? There are times when he is carrying groceries and others when he is empty handed.
One afternoon I spotted him sitting down on a small stool in front of a bar and dosing off. It was an awfully hot day and he must have felt really stuffy in that suit. He was not drinking anything; he was just trying to stay awake. However, he was not being too successful at it. No one bothered him as they walked by and looked at him. He did not seem to mind being looked at either.
I always see him in that beige suit. Perhaps he only has that one. Maybe it was his late beloved wife who had bought it for him and he wears it so as not to forget her one single moment of his day. I picture him taking it off at when he gets home and placing it in a special place to be worn on the following day. The thought of his having been a lawyer before retiring has also crossed my mind. Old habits are hard to break. If he had had to wear a suit each day of his life, how would he change now?
Maybe one day I will run into him, stop him and chat. He must have wondrous stories to tell and like most senior citizens whom I have met, want to tell them.
copyright ©2012 - Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.
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