He watched the young man, oblivious to the look the
attractive blonde had just given him over her shoulder, run towards the bus,
barely making it on before the doors slammed shut behind him.
With a shaky hand, he took another drag of his cigarette,
holding it for as long as he could, his eyes scanning the hustle and bustle of
the city day in front of him: mothers
dragging children along without a second thought to what they were saying about
the display in the store window, a few owners with dogs – checking their
watches or cell phones as they tried to urge the animal along quicker, a young
lean girl running past his spot on the bench with a gym bag thrown over her
shoulder. He shook his head.
His mind wandered to all the lost minutes he had had at
their age. The time he was too busy with the guys to take Marlene to the movies.
How many moments of holding her hand in his had he missed? The hurried phone
calls home to say he would be late coming home for work because he just had a
few more things to finish. Now he had to ask himself how many stories about Johnny’s
science projects he would never be able to recount. When Charla had her baby,
he had promised he would “try” to be there. Instead, he had arrived a few days
after his grandson was born, telling her how he just had to finish that last
part of the deck he had been building onto the house. The image of his only
daughter, baby wrapped up in a blue blanket nestled into her arms, eyes
adoringly looking down – that would stay with him forever. But he still, now,
would long for a clue what it looked like to see his own child look at her son
for the first time. The love that a father has for his daughter will never end,
he knew that firsthand. But he would never know what it was like to watch his daughter
fall in love with her son.
He stood up slowly, his hands shaking as he reached for his
walker, thinking to himself that’s what it was all about. Moments. Life was
made of moments. And he was intent on never missing another one.
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