Art Prints

A Smile

Every day during my walk in the park I see this man walking with his elderly mother. Every day, they arrive in a tan Hyundai sedan; he parks the car, gets out, opens the trunk, and takes out one of those walkers with wheels. Then he proceeds to help his mother out of the car. She has trouble getting out. She could be convalescing after a fall. Perhaps she is recovering from an operation, or maybe she is just plain old and arthritic and slow. Who knows?

The man wears high waisted corduroy pants and white sneakers. His head is adorned with a pair of giant red headphones. The kind that looks like “Beats by Dre." He puts his hand on the walker and starts sauntering, helping his mother move forward. They are an odd pair. She, a bit overweight and hunched over. He, small, slim, with large round glasses on his nose, and on his head a pair of large red headphones.

I call her his mother. I want her to be his mother. I want him to be that person taking his mom on a daily walk … each day ….. every day. I want him to be that man who wants his mother to taste the sun. Each day. Every day. And yet, they make the oddest couple. They do not talk to each other. She never responds to my happy “good morning.” She never smiles. She is too busy forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other. He just guides her. When he hears my greeting, he smiles timidly and nods. And continues.

It takes them about 30 to 45 minutes to finish that ¼ of a mile that is the trail. They reach the spot where he parked the car, and the man gently helps her into her seat, opens the trunk and puts her walker in it, gets in the driver’s seat, and leaves. Each day. Every day.

There is love in this world. It resides in little things. These little things you see around you. Unexpected. Each day. Every day.