There's an old man lives down the road. Scrawny, wrinkled beyond belief and craggy, he seems a grouchy old fart.
Until you look into his eyes of Paul Newman blue. There's a lovely soul inside that grouchy old man that fair shines from those eyes, and no one sees it till they stop and look.
The teenagers see a man who bellows at them, fists shaking in air, to slow the f_ck down. They think he hates teenagers. But there are those of us who know he pulled his grandson's body from a car crashed in the trees along that very road. Every time he sees a teen flying, he sees his grandson, lifeless. He doesn't want to see it again in another young boy and that is why he yells, demands they slow down. It has nothing to do with the dust boiling up like they think.
The caring in that man's eyes is worth more than all the eye candy in the world. And those eyes fair shine with a boyish love of life that will last until he's dead and gone, but will live on in the minds of those that remember him until they are dead and gone.
Everyone has their own beauty that has nothing to do with the body. But, yes, it is harder to judge that unless time is taken to look deep.
He heard about the accident, came to see me today. He had in hand a bottle of Watkins liniment for sore, pulled muscles, wanted to do something for my shoulders and arm. He wanted so much to help and life has been difficult for a while.
So, even though I had my own bottle of Watkins liniment in my cabinet, I sat.. quiet and pliant, and I let him work the magic of his hands while I listened to the magic of his voice. His touch eased the pain in my body, but his words eased the pain in my heart, and even Mom sat quiet and listened.
Sherry
I'm curious.. who lingers in your mind and why?
