We're getting too old.

I never really understood what that meant, wether it'd be about your age , something you're doing, something you've said, or even something you did.it always has something to be associated with yourself or another a time or a place.

This concept first appeared to me on June 3rd, 1967, when I met an old man sitting on one of the benches provided by the park. He was a kind old man feeding the birds whenever he chooses to stay for a little while. I kept seeing him there more often than not. But he was lonely, always just there for hours on end just staring at the park and the people that were there. Months passed and his visits were more frequent than when I first saw him. Then I knew I had to talk to him. I wanted to. So one day I slowly approached the old man sitting alone in that park bench.

And I asked him

"Why are you alone ?"

At first he was shocked at the sudden intrusion of privacy but he answered nonetheless.

"Am I ? You're here with me now aren't you ? Come come have a sit"

As he said those words he patted the bench so I could sit next to him, his voice sounded like he was happy when he knew he found company for that day.

"I haven't seen you around these parts. You're not from around here are you ?" The old man asked.

"Not exactly." I answered him

After our short exchange of questions and answers we both fell into a moment of silence. Not uttering a word for almost a minute, when I finally asked again.

"But why are you here ? In the park with little to nothing to do?"

"Isn't that what old people are supposed to do ? Sit on the park, feed the birds and watch the children play because we have little to nothing to do anywhere else" he chuckled.

"But why the park ?" I asked.

"Because it's simple. It exudes a cycle of the youth and the old " he points to the children playing around the fields of grass.

"From the beginning" he slowly redirects the point of his fingers back to him.

"To the end. But I'm too old to worry about that and any other complicated things. So I sit here in the park doing little to nothing." He answered.

I looked at him with a mix of both confusion and enlightenment.

" I see" I said.

We said nothing and just sat there until the sun finally went down, families packing their picnic baskets and children being carried by their parents, crying on how they didn't wanna go home. Then the old man suddenly got up from the bench and walked towards what I presume to be the direction of his home. And as he was walking away.

" When you're old just like me you'll do the same. See you around" he said.

And that was the last time I saw of him, the memory of him just walking away and the words "I'm too old" stuck to me. I never knew his name or what happened to him. Maybe he moved away or he got tired of the park. I never understood but I remembered.