by Robert Wyrick


The old man sat silent in a straight chair. His bent body, defying

the years of hard times, is erect as if this is his last protest

against the forces of time. The gnarled hands that lay listless in his

denimed lap are unnaturally white for the years of toil have never

permitted such cleanliness. The deep lines etched in his face are

enhanced by a slight but perplexing frown as if some o1d pain has

momentarily found its way back from his distant past.


The body speaks its own language but it’s the eyes that tell the

story. The old man’s eyes have become opaque and now a milky film

covers what was once a vibrant b1ue. The light plays tricks on him

as he struggles to see what lies beyond. He 1ongs to look through the

mind’s eye to roads once traveled and re-create his own ending. But

life does not permit him his wish and holds him on a straight and

narrow course toward his next great task.


About the Author:


Robert Wyrick is a 77-year-old retired Clinical Social Worker who worked in mental health. Bob provided psychotherapy for a clinic in Oak Ridge, Tennessee and then had a private practice in Knoxville. He is married with two adult sons.