Joe

By Carole Blackburn

Joseph Walter Halliday blinked deliberately as his rheumy blue eyes glanced towards the boating lake in the park. While sitting on his usual bench at the same time in the afternoon. His previously sun kissed blonde hair was now the colour of well-trodden snow. Together with his wiry beard, which was easy to tend to. The “can’t be bothered” style suited him inwardly.

His familiar jokey self had departed swiftly after she had left. He was always slumped inwardly and his lined troubled face, today, was quietly silent.

Peering down at his gnarled fingers as they weakly gripped his tortoiseshell rimmed glasses, he shivered as his mind searched for his warmer “Salad days”.  His outward appearance showed to the outside world, he was deeply old. He was no longer on trend in his attire. Faded denims, a brilliant white cotton Tee-shirt, waistcoat, and desert boots would have been his daily uniform. But now he was wrapped up against the weather. The navy Macintosh was buttoned high. It hid the hand knitted cable cardigan; she had made for him last Christmas and the chequered fleece shirt was useless against his inner iced soul. His selective hearing was getting choosier according to his daughter. But hearing aids were for the Deaf, according to Joe.

He blinked but glanced away, as others in the park strolled and passed him. No connection was safer and it hurt less, he thought. If he had spoken, his yellowing buckled teeth would have wiped a smile off your face. Although he was presentable to others, they would have been aware at a closer distance his odour which was in need of attention. As with his hearing, Joe’s sense of smell had faded. Previously, he would have spent as much time as any teenage girl, preparing himself, for her. Everything would have been fresh and new about Joe on a daily basis. But it was not necessary, he felt now. His perspective in life had crashed out of all recognition with his younger self. However, he would never lose sight as his experiences wrinkled his face as he peered into the future.

 

Copyright Carole Blackburn

(A descriptive piece written before joining RLWG)