by Robert Wyrick
The old man sat silent in a straight chair. His bent body, defying
the years of hard times, is erect as if this is his last protest
against the forces of time. The gnarled hands that lay listless in his
denimed lap are unnaturally white for the years of toil have never
permitted such cleanliness. The deep lines etched in his face are
enhanced by a slight but perplexing frown as if some o1d pain has
momentarily found its way back from his distant past.
The body speaks its own language but it’s the eyes that tell the
story. The old man’s eyes have become opaque and now a milky film
covers what was once a vibrant b1ue. The light plays tricks on him
as he struggles to see what lies beyond. He 1ongs to look through the
mind’s eye to roads once traveled and re-create his own ending. But
life does not permit him his wish and holds him on a straight and
narrow course toward his next great task.
About the Author:
Robert Wyrick is a 77-year-old retired Clinical Social Worker who worked in mental health. Bob provided psychotherapy for a clinic in Oak Ridge, Tennessee and then had a private practice in Knoxville. He is married with two adult sons.