An old friend came by to offer condolences. I looked up over the half-lens reading glasses I carry, just for evenings like that. After long days, especially if there are tears, my eyes get tired. I need reading glasses – sometimes.
So I’m looking over the top of the reading glasses, and I notice my old buddy from long ago, as he approaches the door. His hair is gray. Not a few speckles of gray., not salt and pepper gray, I mean silver. Faint patch of black, but even now his mustache was gray.
Yeah, been a few years since I’ve seen him.
So here I am, all Ben Franklin, thinking, “Wow, he’s getting old.”