The maintenance man came today
to check on a suspected water leak
in my apartment.
I remembered him from another
call some 8 or so-months ago.
I recalled that at the time his wife
was expecting their fourth child.
Was it a girl or a boy, I asked him?
Another boy, he replied with a
gratifying smile. Now I have two
girls and two boys. That's it,
I’m done.
I gave him my congratulations
and made the comment, 8-months
has it been that long? Time passes
so quickly.
He pulled up a recent photo on
his smart phone. There was his
smiling baby boy, cute as could
be bearing the growth of his
first two teeth.
Now, at my advanced age
of 76-years, I am
mindful daily of the swiftness
of passing time.
Memories of all the faces
and places which make up
my rich and rewarding
history overwhelms me.
Of course the maintenance
man could see signs of aging
overtaking me—
the grayness of hair, the bent
and hobbling fragility of body,
the walker supporting
me in getting around.
I wondered if he could
imagine his own likelihood
as an old man should he
live so long?
At his age with his youth and
a young family to raise I thought
he doesn’t really know how fast
this life really progresses.
As a unseasoned man myself
way back when, I surely didn’t.
In studying the image of his
infant son, I said
to him, I remember my son’s
first teeth. That was fifty-six
years ago.
This is my reality.
What more need I say?
Time,
fleeting time, uncaring
and unemotional
always has its way.
-30-
Chris Hanch 5-12-2023
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