Passing Fancy

I don't know why old men catch my attention. Why I wonder about the stories behind the gray hairs and craggly faces. I watch them move slowly across the ground to a destination I do not know, wondering how they were when they were young.

Maybe it's because I never had a grandfather to bounce me on his knee, and tell me all of his stories. Oh yes, there was the one that I saw once a year. He kept his teeth in jar on the shelf. There was the one that sat silently in his chair and smoked the years away. But none that aged before me with grace and guidance.

Maybe it's because I wonder how BD will be when he is old (er). Weathered with the years, still quoting books and using made up words. I hope I can be beside him as slows in the journey and I will know all of the stories behind the grays and lines.

I hope so, and I do think that's why old men catch my fancy from time to time.