The Old Folks

While sitting on a park bench reading I overheard a man nearby talking with his grandson. The grandson asked why there were so many old folks in the park every day. The grandfather told him perhaps they were just too alone at home to stay there. Maybe they needed to be with other old folks where they could share old jokes or play a game of bocce ball as they live in the park till dark. Maybe remembering names became a game to ignore their pain and the daily checkers games felt sane. Maybe to make time fly they antagonize or criticize, sometimes even acting wise till twilight comes to bring the night. Then they wave goodbye, and God forgives the little white lie... that they look forward to tomorrow. Then they go home again and back into the past, alone. The grandson nodded. Then he asked the grampa how he knew so much. The grampa was quiet for awhile. Then he told the boy when you got to be his age, there were some things you just know.