Sweet ninety-seven-year-old friend.
I took a cookie and a new devotional booklet
Along with me and found him sitting by
Himself in his garage looking out at
The landscape.
No book or little screen distracted him.
He just watched the clouds pass by, he
Said, and if the sun hit at the wrong spot, he
Lowered the door a bit to give him shade.
At every visit I tell him I admire him because
I do.
He was injured in the Battle of the Bulge.
His World War II cap rested beside his
Chair.
"Someone always shakes my hand and makes a
Fuss when I wear it," he said.
"There aren't many of us left."
He reached fifty years back in his memory.
"Times have changed, and not for the better.
It's not even safe to go to church anymore."
We agreed that back then people sat a spell and
Just talked to each other like we were doing on this
Hot afternoon passing the time of day.
And we both appreciate our Ohio home.
"It's the best place to live," he told me,
"No earthquakes or hurricanes."
His wanderlust has left him, and he's
Content to sit in his garage and watch
The sky.
At every visit before I leave I pray and I
Always say, "I need my hug."
Sometimes I feel like I fit in his generation
More than my own.