Twilight...

Eric had always loved to be in his own company. That was something about him that had not changed with his 82 years. He still enjoyed solitude.

Other than that however, nothing in his life was the same anymore. Be it his now far less than perfect physical condition, deep sorrows of hearing old companions pass away, or occasional pangs of regret that invariably brought tears to his old eyes.

“Would you like some tea, sir?” a voice broke into his thoughts.

“No thank you.” He replied with an automatic smile and watched the attendant move away to ask the old lady in the armchair by the fireplace.

Eric was one of the many inhabitants of Martha’s Old Age Home.

It was around two weeks ago his only son had broken the news to him. News that he would have to move out of the house which he himself had designed and built so long ago, because his daughter in law was expecting again, and a new room would soon be required.

Always the stoic, Eric hadn’t argued, or broken down, or displayed any emotion at all.

He had barely listened to his beloved son as he suggested that Eric could spend some days in the country farm house. He had smiled at his son’s obvious discomfort and had told him quite jovially that he would live with his peers for a while… his son hadn’t understood.

Eric had packed his few meager essentials and moved out the next morning. He had taken one long last look at his house and known that it would indeed be the last.

Here among people of his approximate age group… his generation so to speak, Eric was happy.

He played chess in the afternoons, listened to others recount their tales of hurt and pain, and reflected that he was much better off.

Occasionally one of the other residents would pass away and Eric would feel mixed emotions in the air. Mostly sorrow and loss, but also tinged with a slight feeling of envy. He understood the reason of it's presence but could not approve.

Last night yet another old timer had expired. Jeremy, Eric’s chess partner had died in his sleep. Eric was saddened at the loss of another friend, one made late in life, but a friend and companion nonetheless.

Around him he could sense the usual emotions begin to rage again. Sorrow, fear… and longing.

Eric felt stifled by the feelings rampant in the room. He was suffocating on ideas others talked about, ideas he could never truly comprehend. He felt he needed to get out in the cool afternoon air and stretch his legs, it would make him feel better… it would let him clear his head... it would help him come to terms with things.

He got up from his chair, put on his coat and ambled out into the late sunlight of November.

He had always enjoyed walking. Another thing that had apparently not changed… in spite of the fact that he could not remember the last time he had gone for a walk. Probably with Sophie, his wife… before she too had left the world.

It had been years then, since the last time he had taken his once habitual evening stroll, and yet he still moved with the enthusiastic mood that always accompanied him on his meanderings.

He had lost the grace and vigor of ages past but the feel of the cold crisp air on his face and the gravel crunching under his boots still brought memories flooding back… he smiled to himself.

His stamina had gone away too he decided, after being forced to sit down, on a bench at the nearly empty park, from sheer exhaustion.

There were only two others in the park at this hour. There was just another old loner like him, walking with his grand daughter.

More memories assailed Eric. His own two grandchildren, Emily and Rose, now aged 12 and 10 loved him. They were probably the only ones in the house saddened by his departure. For a brief second he felt jealous of the old wretch in front him, who still had the things Eric had lost.

The moment passed. The little child ran to Eric’s bench and in the compelling tone that all kids are born with, demanded to hear a story.

Her grandpa who had followed her sat down and rested at the opposite end of the bench.

He and Eric looked at each other and nodded. There was no need of introductions; they felt they knew each other somehow.

As the sun sank nearer to the horizon, and the birds returned to their nests, Eric told this little angel a story. As he finished and his audience clapped her little hands together, Eric felt a wave of satisfaction... he felt that he had accomplished everything he had ever wanted.

Her granddad rose and gently reminded her that they should be going. She sprang from the bench and took hold of his finger, waving to Eric who waved back.

“See you around… “, the man began to say but for some reason stopped himself. “Goodbye.” He amended and walked away with his grandchild.

Eric, alone again, sighed and leaned back. He gazed west and saw that the sun had disappeared. He looked east and saw the moon someway above the horizon. He looked up and saw the first stars appearing in the cloudless sky.

He lifted his collar against the cold breeze, and sank into the feeling of unabashed happiness that had seeped through him.

He decided he would head back after a while, back to that brooding group brought together by misery and a mutual feeling of betrayal, but not till he was done savoring his sudden selfish joy.

He closed his eyes. He thought that if he dozed off now, he would probably dream of pretty little angels…. The thought made him smile...

Next morning, an old man was found dead on the park bench with a gentle smile still on his face.