Reflection

Hey, old man! Old man, do you hear me calling you, I see you sitting there. I can see you breathing, I know you hear me. I raised my voice a tad bit, OLD MAN! The man doesn’t like to be bothered much but I always try to speak to him whenever I can. He is a part of my childhood just like I am a part of his adulthood. He always sat in front of the liquor store and held a brown paper bag in his hand. Every day, even on holidays Old man sat in the same position with his glassy eyes staring out into the world of cars driving by and people walking up and down the block.

I’ve been existing with Old man and this liquor store all my life, it feels like we all are dependent on one another. The other kids around never speak to him but for some reason I do. I feel compelled to say at least hello, although I might not get a reaction from him, I still say something. But today I need to tell the Old man something extremely important. I would look at Old man with his Vietnam veterans hat on, and sometimes depending on the weather, he would wear a bomber jacket decorated neatly with army pins and patches. I was always curious about the patches and what they meant, the curiosity built in me for years. My naïve youthfulness enticed my mind to one day have a decorated jacket of my own. I'd watch the old man take one of the patches into his hand and stare at it sometimes, you can tell by the way he would slowly rub his hands over the patches how much they meant to him.

I went into the alley beside the store to grab a stool to sit beside Old man. I returned with a silver metal stool in my hand and placed it next to his metal stool to be with him for the first time today. I could feel him staring at me from the corner of his eye. It was awkward. I could tell he didn’t want me there, but he didn’t say leave, so I stayed. I’d like to believe no matter what he does, he couldn’t get rid of me. It was pretty hot that day, 86 to 89 degrees but no wind at all, not a cloud in sight, just a beaming sun. I was sweating, constantly wiping my face with a rag but Old man seemed to be as cool as a fan. Not a single sweat bead ran down his face. He took a sip from his brown paper bag, looked at me, then returned to look out into the world. He was unbothered by my presence but I grew even more curious about him. He was like an unknown character in the story of my life.

I went back and forth on how to begin a conversation with him. Do I just say, hey one day I’ll join the Army because of those patches? No, that seems weird. Maybe I should first ask him what his patches are about and how he got them. I’ve never been so intimidated to have a conversation in my life.

After minutes of a silent debate in my head, I finally decided to say something. Palms sweaty I stutter, “Old man, I’ve been around you for years and I’ve always made it my business to say hello. I don’t know why, but you are intriguing to me. You are a mysterious character in the story of my life and there is something important I want to share with you. Your jacket reminds me of the one my father used to wear in this picture we had at our house. Especially those patches! I’d see you in this attire and it gives me the courage to one day join the army, like my dad.” I smirked awkwardly, relieved that I was finished.

The Old man stopped his focus on the world around him. He turned his head towards me with a face of confusion. He stared at me with an intensified focus. The sweat beads running down my forehead now seemed like rivers flowing from my scalp to my chin. Nervous and confused, I asked him, “what’s wrong, did I make the wrong decision?'' It was only a minute or two of him just staring at me but felt like an eternity.

I knew Old man just as well as Old man knew me. The health of Old man would shock many but I knew alcoholism didn’t snatch him. When the Old man opened his mouth he had nice white healthy teeth and very minimal wrinkles where his dimples are. He wasn’t in the typical condition of someone who comes to a liquor store every day, he was in good shape. Many on the outside would be surprised, his glassy eyes give the assumption that he is an old drunk, but I know he isn’t.

Then the Old man spoke with the most sincere and soft tones I’ve ever heard since hearing the soft voice of my father, “ Why young man, why would you want to join the military, it’s not a fun place, you’ll lose more than you’ll gain?” By the way, he spoke with so much care and concern it felt like he knew the outcome of my decision before I lived it. I hadn’t thought about my why. I’d look at a picture of my father in his decorated military uniform every day, while listening to his favorite Louis Armstrong vinyl. In that picture it felt like he was a mountain amongst men. I always wanted to emulate everything about him.

After a brief pause waiting for my response, I said “Old man I'm following the footsteps of my father. It may be difficult, but I can’t just sit here and do nothing, when people do nothing, life just goes by.”

The Old man took another big gulp from his brown bag. The bag was wet, you could tell he had a nice cold drink in there. He sat the brown bag down by his side and positioned himself toward me in full attention. Now we are staring at each other face to face, front and center like the past and the present.

The old man took a slow deep breath in and exhaled. He then spoke with calmness and keen composure, “young man, I was sent off to the military. But unlike you, I didn’t have a choice, I was drafted.” He spoke slowly with short pauses between some of his words. “I was 22 years old when I left and went to fight in a place I had never heard of before, against people I never knew existed, for a cause that I didn’t understand. Fighting for freedoms that people can enjoy. Since then I have lost everything. I once thought I wanted to be a military man like my father but when I found love and had my first child, I knew I wanted to be wherever they were.”

I was confused by the fact that he lost everything after giving his life and time to his country. Knowing his family was no longer with him frightened me to the core, I couldn’t imagine life without my family. The old man wore his military patches and veteran’s hat every day as if he wanted you to know he was a vet. Aside from being the Old man at the liquor store, he was ingrained in my mind as the military man. I asked curiously “how did you lose everything?” And I don’t think I was ready for his response.

“Well young man, when I came back home from war it was nothing for me to come back to. I was already a working man before being drafted. The factory job I had at the time moved and it was difficult to get work as our country began to evolve and jobs moved across the sea. My family left because ends became difficult to meet. I’ve been alone since ‘78.” He paused for a minute as if he was reflecting on how much time has gone by since 1978, he shook his head in disbelief, grabbed the brown paper bag, and took another sip.

After his sip, he declared “see everyone probably thinks I’m a drunk because I sit here all day. But I choose to be here no one ever bothers the drunk, no one wants to talk to the drunk but you, young man. The fact is I don’t drink, I can bet my last dollar, people always think there is an alcoholic drink in this bag but it's 100% Poland spring water. I just sit here, do nothing and time passes by.”

“Wait, that’s water?” I chuckled.

“Yes it’s water, water keeps me alive and somewhat young. This stuff behind me is poison but great for my disguise to not talk to people. But you keep me young daily, reminding me of my naive youthful past” Old Man professed.

“Why are your eyes so glassy or always look watery?” I asked.

The Old man replied with sincere sadness in his heart “when you have gone through the pain that I have gone through and constantly think of the life you could’ve had, tears sit at the very edge of your eyelids because the pain is always near.”

In the blazing heat, I sat next to Old Man never expecting to have the type of conversations we had. I couldn’t imagine living life with my tear ducts constantly full because of my intense amount of regret for not living the life that I wanted to live. Me and Old man sat there for a while as time brought the sun to the horizon.

When the night finally came, the old man put his stool back into the alleyway and picked up his brown paper bag of water. He walked 2 blocks to his apartment, up some rickety stairs, and inserted his key into his one-bedroom apartment. He walked steadily over to a table with a few pictures, he focused on one with his father, a tall handsome man dressed in a decorated military jacket. It is his favorite picture of his father since he was a boy. On the same table, he turned on his record player to play his favorite Louis Armstrong vinyl. He walked to the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and washed his face to clear the summer dirt. As he watched the streams of clear water fall from his face into the sink, He stared into his mirror and saw Young man smiling at him, wearing their father's military jacket. The young man said to Old man through the mirror “I hoped we lived life and not let time pass us by”. The old man stayed for a while looking at his young reflection, his eyes swelled with water until it reached the barrier and tears streamed down his face.

As Louis Armstrong continues to play in the back, “I see skies of blue and clouds of white the bright blessed day the dark sacred night and I think to myself what a wonderful world.”