Imaginary throttle

 The skin on his arms, where guns used to be, is loose and without definition. His tats, once a nautical story, are a maze of faded ink and imagination. He still wears sleeveless shirts, but not for the same reasons as before; now, they seem to keep him cooler when the hot flashes come to visit.

     His once-full head of dark brown hair is now white and cropped close, so he doesn't have to fuss with it. He wears a baseball hat now to keep the sun off his already weathered face, now looking more like a road map than the handsome man he was always told he was.

     His dentures float in a glass except for when he goes out for a bite. He has become quite good at gumming most foods except raw vegetables, which he used to enjoy so much. The grandkids tease him about having no teeth, and he assures them that if they don't brush and floss, they will have their own glass of teeth.

     On the floor of his clothes closet are several pairs of cowboy boots, military boots, and his favorite pair of engineer boots, which he wore every day he rode his Harley. They have all collected dust and will continue to as far as he is concerned. He slips on a pair of sneakers with no laces, as his fingers no longer cooperate with him much, so tying them is a chore he could do without.

     Dressed in a pair of faded jeans, a white sleeveless shirt, sneakers, and a baseball hat, he was ready to begin his day. He grabbed his walking stick and, closing the door behind him, he ventured out into the beauty of yet another day he had been blessed to have. He made the walk to the corner store, where he greeted several people he knew. People like him who held on to the years they were given and enjoyed each one to the fullest.

     They sat in a group at the outside tables, sharing stories of their younger days and the adventures they remembered. He explained each of his tattoos and the ports of call in his Navy days, where another one was added. He carried a worn, old picture in his wallet, showing a young man with a sleeveless shirt sitting on a Harley somewhere in the mountains so long ago. He smiled at the image and put it safely back where it belonged.

     The slow walk home made him tired, but his mind was filled with great stories his friends had shared, giving him the energy boost he needed to climb the stairs to his bedroom and lie down. He drifted off to sleep only to be awakened by the throaty sound of a Harley passing by his open window. He twisted the imaginary throttle and went peacefully to the place he had hoped he would.

Mike  2025