Categories
Prose

Corbin

The pool was drained two years ago. He couldn’t afford the upkeep, nor could he even risk swimming any longer what with the lack of feeling in his legs and his muscle loss. All he did now was sit in the lounger looking out over the yard dominated by the decaying, empty pool.

His kids always said “Dad, we’ll be over next weekend,” but next weekend never came and truthfully he didn’t hold it against them. They had nothing in common aside from DNA and sentiment wasn’t something he could muster at this stage of his life. So he sat with his thoughts and reflected on choices made and opportunities missed, but he didn’t linger or wallow in regret-he knew things had played out based on his whims or situational rationales. No use crying over it in his old age.

“Today,” he said to himself, “I will go for a walk at the park.” He poured a thermos full of coffee and got into his old LeBaron and drove up to the park by the school. The leaves and pine needles had piled up on the benches, so he brushed them off and sat down. He squinted and looked up at the vapor trails from the planes taking off from the regional airport. It was interesting to him, living in the flight path and trying to guess which places the planes were off to. People zipping all over the world to do things he could only guess and here he was: the lonely observer with a stale cup of coffee and no dreams left.

© 2021 Jeff E. Brown. All rights reserved.

By jebrownwriter

Houston, TX-based Writer and Photographer. Proud pet rescuer who spends nearly all his money on them.

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