Reminiscing

On an old weathered wooden bench, the old man sat. A chipped mug warmed his arthritis ridden hands as steam curled up in swooping waves from the coffee. His age-worn face cratered as he winced in pain and readjusted his position. He wore tattered snow pants, and boots whose leather was thinning on the sides. The cold snow wetted his double layered wools socks. His wife had knitted the gray sweater he now wore, the sleeves unraveling at the wrists from years of neglect. She had always mended his clothes and she had long since passed away.

The bench sat on a slight hill, overlooking the frozen pond in his back yard. Snow hung heavy on the surrounding trees and beyond his property line he saw what looked like snowmobile tracks, though his eyes were weak from age, so it was hard to be sure. The air was cold and quiet save for some scattered bird calls and the occasional scrape of a snow shovel carving a path in the sidewalk. He leaned back in the bench and took a sip from his mug, the bitter coffee warming his throat. She had always made better coffee too.

He stared out over the pond, its thick ice glimmering as the sun rose over the trees. The bell of the church gonged in the distance, dispensing the silence with its reverberating notes.

~~~

Samantha twirled on her ice skates, digging a small hole in the thick ice. The church bell was ringing, providing a loud chiming soundtrack, as she twisted and skirted around the pond. Her legs and feet seemingly moved on their own, muscle memory from years of practice. Her face was flush with cold and exertion, and her heavy breath fogged out from her mouth.

Her father was sitting on the bench on the hill smiling at her, coffee in hand, and she waved. Though he was but an audience of one, it still invigorated her and she intensified her routine. She jumped and twirled and spun in small tight circles. She heard her father whoop and cheer from his bench. As she finished her final spin and came to a delicate stop, he jumped up from the bench clapping and knocked over his coffee.

~~~

Samantha finished her routine, her slight silhouette spinning slowly to a stop. The old man beamed with pride, and though his knees no longer allowed him the luxury of jumping, he let out a low whoop of support. Samantha's form faded from the ice, a thousand flurries of snow spreading out in the air.

It had been years since she had skated this pond, but the memories were etched in his mind like skate lines carved into the smooth ice. She was grown with a family of her own. Her and her family had visited last Christmas and his two granddaughters had skated until it was almost too dark to see, though Samantha had not laced up her skates on that trip. Seeing his granddaughters out on the ice had been the best present that year and his heart ached to see them again soon.

In the distance, he could hear the chatter of the Sunday morning church crowd as they funneled into the service. His eyesight might be weak, but his hearing was still as sharp as ever. He heard two boys, probably brothers, arguing over who hit who first. He smiled and took another sip of his cooling coffee.

~~~

The thud of their bodies blowing into each other echoed off the hill and broke up the silence in the cold winter air. The smacking of wood on wood cracked through the trees, scattering the few birds nestled in the branches. Darren went sprawling over the ice, sliding along the smooth frozen surface on his butt. Bennett had caught him off guard with a quick elbow to the shoulder and zipped toward the small red goal at the end of the pond.

The heavy black puck danced on and off Bennett's stick as he raced toward the goal. Darren swore under his breath and tried to scramble back to his feet, his legs wobbled as he staggered forward, just in time to see Bennett slap the puck into the upper right corner of the net. Bennett twirled on the ice, his arms raised to the air in triumph. He mimicked the sounds of a roaring crowd.

"Hey," Their dad called out from the edge of the pond, "why don't you two try that with some real competition." Darren laughed as Samantha hopped onto the ice, stick in hand, and their dad quickly followed.

"Yeah, alright." Darren's face all smiles. "Bring it on.'

~~~

The coffee was gone and the warmth that once clung to the clay mug had floated away. The old man's bones creaked and cracked as he sat up, ghostly images of an ancient hockey game faded out of view. The silence of mid-morning wrapped around him in an eerie embrace.

The soles of his leather boots crunched into the deep snow as he trudged toward his back porch. Darren would be over soon for their ritual Sunday cribbage games and the old man needed to change into some dryer clothes. Darren had moved back to his hometown after shattering his knee chasing the dreams of a professional athlete, but the old man was happy to have him close. They would drink beer, play cards, and reminisce, with the tv in the background, showing the games. Bennett's team was playing this afternoon, and the old man prayed their losing streak would come to an end.

Standing on the deck, he glanced out over the frozen pond, one last time, breathing in the cold air and the sweet memories.

~~~

"We did pretty good, eh?" His wife put her arms around his waist, her chin resting on his shoulder. Below them their three children ran around the yard, peppering each other with snow balls, and sliding across the ice. Two clay coffee mugs stood on the rail of the deck, steam rising like chimney smoke and disappearing on the light wind. He turned and kissed his wife on the head. She smelled of lavender and apple cider vinegar and he breathed in deep.

~~~

The wind had picked up slightly and the old man's damp clothes sent a chill through his body. He inhaled deeply through his nose, the feel of her arms around his waist fading as he breathed in. The air smelled faintly of apple cider vinegar and lavender.

"Yeah, we did good."