Isidora (week 1)

Saturday, July 14, early morning, like every other Saturday, I woke up and went for my usual morning walk.

I walked down the Broadway lane, passed the Oak Street, a beautiful set of buildings with old spiral stair cases encrusted with spiral seashells. Saw Mrs. Jones walking her dog , people taking out trash, Mr Parker teaching little Tom to ride a bike. Then i turned towards Willow Park, people walking , people talking, same old men and women lining the park benches and watching the people go by.

Finally reached Harry’s for my usual Saturday coffee and the Saturday Specials. They had Spanish omelettes and fruit toast. So I grabbed my breakfast and sat at the corner table for two, the last open one in the room. Just then I noticed from the corner of my eyes, the old gentleman from the park. Very unusual to see him in here. He grabbed the same Saturday Special  and walked up to my table, asked me if he could join me as all the other tables were taken. I was hesitant at first, but let him sit down. We got chatting . He asked me about myself and I about him. Did not know how the time flew by or when I was done eating or that I was running late for Math class.

Reached home after the math class, as I sat down to write my journal, I got thinking about all the stuff Mr. Potter from the park talked about. How he fought in the Civil War. All the places he visited. How I’d love to be all over the world. How all he ever wanted was to call some place home. How he always wanted to come to Isidora for the beautiful crafted homes, the glamorous women, settle here and make it his home.

I have always wondered what it would be like, to wander all over the globe and here is a man who wears the same black pants, a plaid shirt with a sweater, the same plaid muffler . The skin on his hands all wrinkled, his face all weary from facing the perils of the world and all he wanted to call my home his home, but by the time he got here and by the time he realised, his dream, the seashell encrusted stairways had collected dust, the glamorous women had grown old, he had passed the time and age, he was too old for his dreams. This was like his daily routine. Everyday he would go to the park and watch life and people pass by.


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