I just posted how on any day I would trade a sofa for a trail, only the original post had, in error, “trail for a sofa.” This mistake is another reminder of my declining proofreading skills. Oh, how we age!
From the second floor study Ronald had a panoramic view of the leaves turning red and yellow in the final days of October. He eased back in the leather chair and drifted off to sleep. Soon he was running on the path that meandered through the woods. He was no longer old, but that young man who knew no limits of physical exertion. His dream state was interrupted by a door closing downstairs.
“Grandpa, are you here?”
Ronald hobbled to the upstairs landing. Brett was clad only in running shorts.
“Grandpa, I ran on the path to the top of the hill and back, just like you said you used to do.”
“Don’t forget to stretch.”
Brett bent over and touched his toes, once.
Ronald frowned. Youth is wasted on the young.
“Shower before dinner,” Ronald yelled as he limped back to the study. Getting old sucks. Ten minutes later, dressed in a sweat clothes, he stood on the path at the start of the woods. His initial running stride was almost a walk. It was nearly dark by the time he was halfway to the top of the hill. He gasped for air and fell to his knees. He heard the hoot of an owl over his heavy breathing.
Ronald tried to yell, but only managed a moan. He curled up on the ground.
Brett pointed the flashlight to the side after his grandfather opened his eyes,
“Grandpa, take your walker next time.”
Ronald smiled: “I’m glad it’s you–I was young again…for a moment.”