The Old Man and His Dog

 

Today, as I made my to work, a closed road forced me down the scenic route.

I found myself winding through an old neighborhood, where time had etched its marks on the houses, yet they still exuded the love and pride of their owners.

I find myself continuing the take this route even though the faster route is now open.

From that first day and every day since, I see an old man walking his small dog.

Both have turned gray with the years, their steps in harmony as they scurry across the broad street.

Each morning, he offers a gentle nod.

When I see him, he makes me think of my grandfather.

Perhaps it’s his measured stride, or the way he tips his hat,

but most of all, it’s the kindness that sparkles in his eyes.

Every day, he looks at me and smiles, a simple gesture that speaks volumes.

This morning, as I approached the intersection, I saw him standing at the curb, waiting for a chance to cross.

I slowed my car and came to a stop, creating a barrier against oncoming traffic.

With a gentle wave of my hand, I signaled for him to go ahead.

He glanced up, his eyes meeting mine, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

 As he crossed, I watched the cautious yet determined steps of his dog trotting beside him, both of them safely reaching the other side.

It was a small act, but it felt profoundly meaningful, a fleeting connection in the rush of everyday life.