Everyday, He Walks
Everyday an old man walks past my front window. Beard to his chest. Rubber boots to his knees. Despite pelting snow, sidewalks of pure ice, stinging wind, sticking mud, and thick rain, he walks everyday. Then, 20 minutes later he walks back. Everyday. All winter.
Today I drove past a school and all of the kids were out in the yard playing. Teachers huddled together near the warmth of the door. And there was the old man, holding a little girl’s hand, her arm outstretched by her puffy pink winter jacket. Other kids ran and kicked back and forth on the swings. But the little girl and the old man walked around the schoolyard, together.
Everyday, alone, no matter the weather, he walks to school to spend recess with his granddaughter.
Secret Sixty, Revealed: Constant, unwavering love is surely one of the greatest things this world has to offer.
After crying all the way home, I pulled myself together and called my grandpa.