Old Man

by Andy Levine

In the farthest part of a parking lot, a disheveled old man slowly approached me. His eyes told a story of a long life. I was cautious.

“Sorry, fellow,” I said, “You’re looking at the wrong guy for money.”

“I don’t want money,” he replied.

“I’m late for work.”

“Don’t go.”

"What?"

"Maybe I’m your guardian angel and plans have been made."

I thought, “They sure don’t make angels these days like in the movies.” His whole appearance was “crinkled.” So was his voice.

"Please make me a meal," he said.

As if in a dream, I let this guy into my car and drove home. We said nothing. He smelled like leaves that had gathered in a corner of my basement. I noticed we both had diamond studs in our left ears.

My will was not my own as I made him eggs and toast and rubbed his shoulders.

He said, “My back gets so tired from all the flying I do.”

“Where are your wings?” I asked.

“Oh, they don’t appear on earth.” he said, chuckling.

After he showered, he fell asleep on my couch. I wasn’t uncomfortable with this extraordinary turn of events. I felt I had known this man forever. I almost cried watching him smile in his rest. He was so peaceful.

I, too, fell asleep. For the first time in years I didn’t wake up once the whole night. I dreamt that my long-dead parents and my late wife were having a grand party with a live band. Then the morning sun tapped my shoulder, declaring a new day. Like a kid, I felt rested and ready for more adventures.

I yelled, “Old man! What do we do today?”

Entering the other room I discovered he was gone. I checked everywhere, but found no evidence of his visit. I made coffee strong enough to wake the dead—but maybe not strong enough, because when I looked in the mirror I saw the old man.

“We had a great life,” I heard myself whisper.