This is a short story, a very short story, that has been sirring in my head for a little while. Finally just banged it out and here it is for you to enjoy. Please feel free to share my blog with others!
Old Man Down by The Sea –
I saw him alone, walking, down by the sea. Shorts, a T-shirt, no shoes, long grey hair and beard, windblown. He looked old, but of an undistinguishable age, worn but still fit enough with broad shoulders and strong legs and arms. He walked slowly, paused often, looking into the water and out to the sea. Others passed by without much glance or any acknowledgment from them, or from him. Truly alone even on a fairly crowded beach. On down the sand and shore he walked in that manner.
I saw him alone, fishing, with a short rod off the pier. He was deliberate in his rhythm of casting, reeling, waiting, and casting again. There were others fishing there too, but he was alone. He stood, or crouched or sat, but he didn’t move from his spot on the pier down by the sea. At times I saw him take pause setting aside his rod and reel sit back straight against the piers mooring post and he’d pack and light a pipe with the same deliberate motion of all he did. Smoke swirled up and around him, seeping out more than any exhale, draw in, and seep out, as he gazed out across the sea.
I saw him alone, washing the deck of a large and beautiful sail boat, down by the sea. Same old shorts, T-shirt, no shoes, long windblown beard and hair, hair spilling out from under a well worn and tatter Greek Fisherman’s cap. He was true to form, deliberate, careful and fluid in his motions of task at hand. He was familiar, comfortable and at home there on this vessel. It was laborious work he was accomplishing there alone, on the boat, down by the sea. When he had thoroughly finished and stored all his cleaning tools somewhere below in the pristine cabin, he stepped off the boat and sat, back straight against the piers mooring post, lit his pipe and looked out to sea. Shortly a very well dressed middle-aged man accompanied by three very beautiful, giggling, curvaceous, bikini-clad, young girls approached. He rose straight, tipped his cap in greeting and assisted all to board the vessel. He then took a handful of money from the gentleman, stowed it into his T-shirt pocket, tip his cap again and walked deliberately up the pier to shore, and proceeded down the beach.
I saw him alone, drinking from a bottle, nestled inside a brown-paper bag, down by the sea. He sat, back straight, there on the curb in the parking lot, across the street from the ocean boardwalk, at the small tavern and store. He drank and looked out over the traffic, people passing, bikes, strollers, skateboards, beyond all that toward the horizon there above the sea. When he stood and started off, he now wobbled some, but was still determined, stood tall and made his way off to the overpass.
I saw him alone, curled up and sleeping, under the overpass, down by the sea. There were several others there too, but he was alone down by the sea. By him was a shopping cart that held a few items of clothing, a small box, his fishing rod and reel, a crab trap, and assorted other nondescript things. He appeared still and peaceful sleeping like a child in a soft, warm, safe bed, in a home, with family. But he was alone there on the ground, on cardboard, covered by a light hooded sweatshirt, alone down by the sea, sleeping.
The next day I saw him again, alone, sitting on that same curb, in the parking lot, drinking from a bottle, in a brown-paper bag, as he looked out over all the moving things. He looked more disheveled, less strong and true, yet still determined in a bad way to press on in drink, to heal the pain, wash away the past, dull the present. He sat less straight, teetered more. He reached to his T-shirt pocket and pulled the last few bills from what was left of the previous wad he had gotten from the dapper gentleman a few days before, rose unsteadily, pitched the bottle toward the trash can and wobbled toward the door to go inside the establishment. Above the door was the sign “Down by The Sea – The Seafarers Tavern”, and I watched him go alone as he entered Down by The Sea.
A mariners wish, blessing and toast to your travels through life:
May the wind fill your sails now and for ever more.
Cheers!
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