Overtime

The steady rap of the cane on concrete provided the all familiar rythm of life that the old man had gotten used to a while ago. Despite his sore hips and painful steps though, these did not decrease his passion for long walks. The act of simply going outside still envigorated him to this day.

He remembers when he thought of the outside world in passing in his early 20's. Complaining about how it was so dirty and hot and humid. But now he only realises the sheer beauty of the lone flower in a sea of grass, and the pastel petals of the flower against the wilted stem.

It was oh so long ago since he truly thought about what came after work, after everything.

If what came before was toil, then what came after was boredom. The sheer amount of free time he had in retirement baffled him. Days flowed like water as he became used to the quiet sensation of time crawling by on a wednesday afternoon with nothing to do and nowhere to be. It felt like he was in the off season of a sport, or a long vacation that he never came back from. It felt weird to sit with nothing to do except enjoy chess with his partner or maybe watch the evening news while reading a book.

As time when by after his first day of retiring he soon realized that he had too much, and not enough time all at once. He missed his grandsons chubby face at the same time that he felt proud to watch him walk onto the stage at his graduation. That day he realised that it had been over 10 years since he had actually worked over 7 days a week, and 5 since he had worked at all. Distressed and all too concerned, he decided to clear his head by taking a walk outside, strolling along the sidewalk with his cane and newsboy hat.

So, when the world got too loud for his liking or his old age began to creep in he would take a walk down the subdivision and through the neighbors apple trees. He would walk down to the old musty lake that would always be mossy and shaded, and then would sit on the bench and teeter over the edge to peer into the murky depths in hope of catching a glipse of the fish below. With curiosity he would scan his surroundings and look for stories in the bark of trees, or maybe tall tales in the bird houses perched in tall oaks with plenty of green. Slowly he would rise from his seat and set himself back on the path of his return.

Walking back slowly, he would once again take note of the browning leaves making way for autumn and the patches of still green leaves shining like jade in the afternoon sun. Looking at the apples on the trees, he would decide to walk up to the neighbors house in search of the produces owner. After a knock or two the door would open with a small thunk and a rattle of the door knob. The neighbor would greet him with a smile as she answers his greetings with politeness. He would ask for an apple and she would insist that he was free to take one whenever because he was always so polite. He would smile and thank her as he gave his goodbye and waved to the closing door.

Slowly trotting to one of the old apple trees he would use his height to his advantage as he would lean forward and up to pluck a plump splotch of red off the thick branch. Then he would proceed to rub the surface with his sleeve and bite into the juicy, sweet flesh.

He would walk back home as he slowly thumped ahead with his cane and chewed on chunks of apple. The walk would not be a prolonged one and he would soon arrive timely to his front door. He would look at his watch in search of the time and find that it was no later than 5:30 PM. Throwing the discarded core into the compost pile, he would slowly unlock the door with a 15-year old key and then turn the rusty doorknob and be greeted with the sound of a timer going off in the kitchen.

His partner would then call and greet him.

"Just finished dinner. Come eat!"

He would reply and then time would begin to flow normally again, his overtime was just beginning.

"Coming!"