Member-only story
An Aged Man Is but a Paltry Thing
All that’s beautiful drifts away
“My older brother once pulled the chair out as our mother was about to sit,” he said softly, like a whisper, before I poured his coffee.
“That’s terrible. Why did he do that?” I said.
He didn’t answer.
He stared at his newspaper and coffee mug. Then he gazed out the window where palm trees swayed in the breeze. There was something peaceful in the movement of the trees. Free and unencumbered despite their roots and permanency. Their gentle back and forth reminded me of the metronome on my piano teacher’s baby grand, swinging to and fro like a hypnotist’s watch. It used to mesmerize me back then when I was just a boy.
This was different.
The rocking palms hadn’t entranced the old man. Deeper things held him. Remnants of the past. Ghosts, or maybe regrets.
I looked at the menu beside his newspaper and then back at him.
“Would you like to order anything from the kitchen?”
“Have you got any mulligans?”
“Excuse me?”
“Do you play golf, son?”
“Uh, no sir.”
“Mulligans are second chances. Opportunities to take another shot. Have another go.”
