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Authors: John Siwicki
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sandwich.
For some reason this road and place feels and looks so familiar. I drove it when I was a kid, but that was years ago? Feels like a dream or something.
He started the engine, stepped on the gas.
OLD MAN
Sam was feeling rested as he rambled down the road again. As the car twisted on the corkscrew country road, he was steady, vigilant, and ready to slam the break to the floor. He scanned the tree line for other animals that might hurdle themselves across the center line, then reached to turn on the music. It played in time with the hum of the engine, and the melody interloped with dust particles jarred by the invigorating breeze that blew through the windows.
Then for a moment he spied a hill to the right where an oddly familiar broad full sized oak stood, and its shadow floated. As he drove closer his eye caught the movement of a figure walking near and around the tree, then it disappeared again into the shade of the tree.
Where did he go? Who’s that? he whispered.
Hooked by curiosity, and his attention captured, he had to know who it was, and what was going on.
Maybe he needs help, Sam said, and pulled the car over to the side of the road. He turned off the engine and sat quietly for a time watching, then got out and stood on the road next to the car. He waited there looking up the hillside, then saw the shadowy figure again.
It’s an old man, Sam said.
He watched the guy walk around, look up, and gesture to the tree, branches, and leaves. The old man moved without logic. Back and forth, sometimes his arms waved slowly, then quickly. Sam walked to the bottom of the hill to get a closer look, and to find out what the guy was doing up there next to the tree.
Hey, Sam shouted. Do you need help?
There was no reply at first, but when he shouted again the man’s head jerked up. Sam cupped his hands around his mouth like a small megaphone and yelled once more, slowly, one word at a time, Do-you-need-any-help? Are-you-okay? He waved and shouted again, Hey! You okay? The old man stood motionless, arms down at his side, staring at the tree. Sam knew the old man had heard him because he looked his way a few times.
Why isn’t he saying anything, waving, or signaling. Maybe the old guy wandered away from a nursing home, and needs help. He could just be lost?
As Sam maneuvered through the three-strand barbed wire fence along the roadside, his shirt caught tearing a big hole when he pulled away, he grunted angrily. I hope this is worth doing.
He made his way up the hill, slipping, then fell a few times, and a few more times.
What the hell am I doing this for?
A torn shirt, hands and pants covered in dirt, he finally stood at the top.
Made it! Now, where is this old guy?
Breathless, Sam rested a moment, then scanned the area and walked closer to the tree.
There he is, Sam said. Hello, fine day isn’t it?
Now with a clear look at the man, he saw they were about the same height. He looked in good shape, and stood exceptionally straight for an old-timer. His long white hair and beard blew free and graceful in the breeze.
He looks like a wizard from mythology. All he needs is a pointy hat and cloak, Sam thought. Maybe he’s an artist or a painter? He could be painting landscapes. There’s a nice view from up here. Don’t see a canvas or paint, though.
Sam looked toward the bottom of the hill to the road below.
My car looks like a toy from here. Looks like I could pick it up, and hold it in my hand.
The old guy looked at the Sam, grumbled, and said, Fine day for you maybe, but not for me.
What? Why is that? Sam asked, then walked closer. Having some trouble?
Trouble? Do you know what trouble is? What real trouble is?
What’s wrong? Maybe I can help?
You can’t help me.
Why not?
This tree is dying.
Tree is dying! Are you kidding me? What’s this old guy talking about? What’s he on?
The tree looks fine to me. Are you sure it’s dying?
Damn right, I’m sure! Why else would I be here?
I
For some reason this road and place feels and looks so familiar. I drove it when I was a kid, but that was years ago? Feels like a dream or something.
He started the engine, stepped on the gas.
OLD MAN
Sam was feeling rested as he rambled down the road again. As the car twisted on the corkscrew country road, he was steady, vigilant, and ready to slam the break to the floor. He scanned the tree line for other animals that might hurdle themselves across the center line, then reached to turn on the music. It played in time with the hum of the engine, and the melody interloped with dust particles jarred by the invigorating breeze that blew through the windows.
Then for a moment he spied a hill to the right where an oddly familiar broad full sized oak stood, and its shadow floated. As he drove closer his eye caught the movement of a figure walking near and around the tree, then it disappeared again into the shade of the tree.
Where did he go? Who’s that? he whispered.
Hooked by curiosity, and his attention captured, he had to know who it was, and what was going on.
Maybe he needs help, Sam said, and pulled the car over to the side of the road. He turned off the engine and sat quietly for a time watching, then got out and stood on the road next to the car. He waited there looking up the hillside, then saw the shadowy figure again.
It’s an old man, Sam said.
He watched the guy walk around, look up, and gesture to the tree, branches, and leaves. The old man moved without logic. Back and forth, sometimes his arms waved slowly, then quickly. Sam walked to the bottom of the hill to get a closer look, and to find out what the guy was doing up there next to the tree.
Hey, Sam shouted. Do you need help?
There was no reply at first, but when he shouted again the man’s head jerked up. Sam cupped his hands around his mouth like a small megaphone and yelled once more, slowly, one word at a time, Do-you-need-any-help? Are-you-okay? He waved and shouted again, Hey! You okay? The old man stood motionless, arms down at his side, staring at the tree. Sam knew the old man had heard him because he looked his way a few times.
Why isn’t he saying anything, waving, or signaling. Maybe the old guy wandered away from a nursing home, and needs help. He could just be lost?
As Sam maneuvered through the three-strand barbed wire fence along the roadside, his shirt caught tearing a big hole when he pulled away, he grunted angrily. I hope this is worth doing.
He made his way up the hill, slipping, then fell a few times, and a few more times.
What the hell am I doing this for?
A torn shirt, hands and pants covered in dirt, he finally stood at the top.
Made it! Now, where is this old guy?
Breathless, Sam rested a moment, then scanned the area and walked closer to the tree.
There he is, Sam said. Hello, fine day isn’t it?
Now with a clear look at the man, he saw they were about the same height. He looked in good shape, and stood exceptionally straight for an old-timer. His long white hair and beard blew free and graceful in the breeze.
He looks like a wizard from mythology. All he needs is a pointy hat and cloak, Sam thought. Maybe he’s an artist or a painter? He could be painting landscapes. There’s a nice view from up here. Don’t see a canvas or paint, though.
Sam looked toward the bottom of the hill to the road below.
My car looks like a toy from here. Looks like I could pick it up, and hold it in my hand.
The old guy looked at the Sam, grumbled, and said, Fine day for you maybe, but not for me.
What? Why is that? Sam asked, then walked closer. Having some trouble?
Trouble? Do you know what trouble is? What real trouble is?
What’s wrong? Maybe I can help?
You can’t help me.
Why not?
This tree is dying.
Tree is dying! Are you kidding me? What’s this old guy talking about? What’s he on?
The tree looks fine to me. Are you sure it’s dying?
Damn right, I’m sure! Why else would I be here?
I
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