Old man walking slowly, talking to himself, mainly because he is not interested in what anyone else has to say. 

He used to bring people together and fight for what was right and demonize all that was wrong. 

“It’s simple math,” He would say, “Hatred is wrong and love is right.”

He walks with a slight limp and holds back hiss winces when the pain hits.

He wasn’t always so frail. He once ran the New York City marathon and was rarely still, even changing jobs several times in a decade. A man of impulse, he married twice and often acted without considering the consequences.

Now he walks slowly, staring at the ground to ensure he doesn’t trip or slip on anything. He sits on a bench on Ocean Parkway and watches how the cars pass on by. His eyes gloss over as time walks or runs past him. 

“Everyone is always in a rush these days. If only they understood what they are running towards…”

She was a beautiful young lady who had boys clambering after her. She dressed sexily because she loved to watch their jaws drop whenever she came into their view. She danced to no audible music and she sang no song aloud. She had a vibe and rhythm of her own. She loved Rock-‘n’-roll because it made her feel alive. 

She married, had children and chose a career in community service. Jerry was her husband and the love of her life. When he passed, a big part of her passed away as well. 

These days she walks with the help of a walker with a lady named Bea. The kids come when they can, but everyone runs in circles just as she once did. 

“That’s what you want for your children. You want them not to babysit you. Instead, they should live life with all its aches and bruises.”

She used to tell them to always be grateful for gifts that all people take for granted. 

“Celebrate life and be grateful. Appreciate the beauty and laughter you can see and hear. Express your gratitude by using your hands to hold and support those in need.

They walk together through Central Park in New York City. He is carrying a brown bag with two cups of coffee. It is late October and the MOMA has nothing on the Artist’s creation which surrounds them. 

In New York, during the fall, dark skies and infinite colors of leaves create a striking contrast. The leaves have fallen and spread across the grounds. Children trying to catch the leaves as they float towards the grass. A man playing a guitar, really, singing a James Taylor song about Fire and Rain. She takes his hand and places it on her heart. He weakens and holds her closer to him. The winter will soon be here and you can feel the chill. He places his coat around her shoulders and they sit on a bench. He opens the bag and they drink their coffee watching as the fall takes place. She puts her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes. He smiles.