Where Does the Time Go? (bp coyle)

The old man set a cup of lukewarm, weak tea on the table beside his wife’s rocking chair. He tucked the blanket tighter around her legs. That was a definite chill in the air that evening.

‘Frankie,’ she asked, ‘do you remember when you were a boy?’

He lowered himself gently onto a nearby bench and shrugged. ‘Heck Rosie,’ he said with a laugh, ‘that was such a long ago.’

‘Do you remember summer days that went on forever? When a single day felt like a whole lifetime?’

‘Yes old girl, I remember that. When it seemed like the holidays could never possibly end and we’d never have to go back to school again.’

‘Where does the time go Frankie? Can you believe that Christmas is almost here again? Last Christmas only seems like weeks ago don’t you think?’

‘Rosie old girl, our first Christmas together only seems like weeks ago to me.’’

‘You bought me a charm bracelet.’

He nodded. ‘Cost me the best part a month’s wages. I wanted to get you something that you’d love.’

They fell into silence then. Maybe they were lost in reverie. Maybe they had both dozed off.

Image by Marc Pascual from Pixabay