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Afternoon Walk (continued)
She makes her way slowly to the door feeling each step with her arthritic knees. She has a cane now, but refuses to use it. “Those are for old folks,” she declared. “I can still get around on my own.” She catches a quick glimpse in the sideboard mirror. Her fine, snow white hair, a bit unkempt from her nap, Her once straight back bent with age. Eyes still sharp and bright blue gave her wrinkled face a youthful appearance despite her years. She imagines she detects a slight whiff of pipe smoke as she pads closer to the back door. The dog paws at the door, anxiously anticipating his freedom. She unhooks the screen door’s metal latch. The rusty spring squeals as the dog nudges the screen with his head and bursts into the afternoon sun. “Have a nice walk, you two.” |
