he’d stopped. Despite the Inside, he took a long drink protests from his knees and back, of water and grabbed the next he pushed himself first into a tray of flowers. The morning’s squat, then using his cane for work had taken a lot out of him, balance, slowly managed to stand but perseverance was his middle up. As the world settled in under name, and there was much still to his feet, he wiped his brow with do. Tucking the tray across his hip, his handkerchief and smiled. he made his way back to the Ninety years young, he thought. memorial garden and once again, Still going strong. utilizing more gravity than grace, He walked, or perhaps got himself down with his spade ambled is a better word—across and started digging. the backyard, up the driveway to Matthew met Suzie in the path that lead to the back of late summer, 1940. His best friend his house. The same house he’d Tony had heard that a bunch of lived in since 1978, when the kids were meeting up at Andy place was a dump that probably Carroll’s parent’s place at the should have been condemned. lake. Andy’s Dad was away on But over the years, with lots of business, and his Mom was hard work and determination, he helping a sick aunt in Indianapolis. and Suzie had built something excuses,” Tony said, “No strong and lasting. Sure, it was knowing very well how much quieter now that the kids uncomfortable Matthew felt in and the grandkids were all grown. social situations. It was awkward And of course, the first few years enough being sixteen-years old, after Suzie passed had been never mind being the only blind almost unbearable. But there was kid in the entire town. “There’s also comfort in the familiar. So going to be girls,” Tony continued. much had happened in this house already in the car, and—“ “Bill’s that he felt like it was a part of he dropped his voice to a whisper. him, and he a part of it. got a bottle of hooch.” “We’ve
he’d stopped. Despite the protests from his knees and back, he pushed himself first into a squat, then using his cane for balance, slowly managed to stand up. As the world settled in under his feet, he wiped his brow with his handkerchief and smiled. Ninety years young, he thought. Still going strong. He walked, or perhaps ambled is a better word—across the backyard, up the driveway to the path that lead to the back of his house. The same house he’d lived in since 1978, when the place was a dump that probably should have been condemned. But over the years, with lots of hard work and determination, he and Suzie had built something strong and lasting. Sure, it was much quieter now that the kids and the grandkids were all grown. And of course, the first few years after Suzie passed had been almost unbearable. But there was also comfort in the familiar. So much had happened in this house that he felt like it was a part of him, and he a part of it. Inside, he took a long drink of water and grabbed the next tray of flowers. The morning’s work had taken a lot out of him, but perseverance was his middle name, and there was much still to do. Tucking the tray across his hip, he made his way back to the memorial garden and once again, utilizing more gravity than grace, got himself down with his spade and started digging. Matthew met Suzie in late summer, 1940. His best friend Tony had heard that a bunch of kids were meeting up at Andy Carroll’s parent’s place at the lake. Andy’s Dad was away on business, and his Mom was helping a sick aunt in Indianapolis. “No excuses,” Tony said, knowing very well how uncomfortable Matthew felt in social situations. It was awkward enough being sixteen-years old, never mind being the only blind kid in the entire town. “There’s going to be girls,” Tony continued. “Bill’s already in the car, and—“ he dropped his voice to a whisper. “We’ve got a bottle of hooch.”
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