Two old guys sat next to each other on a worn-out park seat. They were comfortable and had the peaceful wisdom that comes with age. The afternoon was relaxing and calm, like time had stopped. The sky was blue, the leaves were rustling in the breeze, and the world moved at a slower pace than usual. Every day, two old friends would get together and watch life go by, speaking little and requiring even less.
Over the years, their talks had changed from politics and occupations to health problems and joyful recollections. Now, they felt better when they weren’t talking. Occasionally they would talk about a dog that reminded them of one they used to have or about the young couples going hand in hand, silently amazed at how love always seemed to start the same way.
Then, a young woman came sprinting into view, breaking the silence. She was in excellent shape, full of life, wearing a sports bra and running shorts, and had earbuds in. She was definitely in her world. As she walked, her ponytail bounced in time with her feet. She moved with the vigor of someone who hadn’t learned how to be tired yet. The old man on the right, who had a well-worn cap and perpetual crow’s feet on his face, couldn’t help but smile. It was not a smile of amusement or leering; rather, it was a warm, genuine expression that emerges when life presents a moment of beauty or simple joy.
The young woman halted, which surprised him. She took out one earbud, turned around, and walked up to him with a look of defense. “Why are you grinning at me, you creep?” she exclaimed in a harsh, suspicious voice, maybe because she had had too many negative experiences.
The old man blinked, surprised but not frustrated. His eyes didn’t show any anger; they just showed the gentleness of someone who had lived long enough to know how often people get things wrong. He leaned in a little, and his voice was calm and pleasant. “I’m not smiling at you,” he responded with a soft laugh. “I’m smiling because seeing pretty young girls in the summer always makes an old man feel better, no matter how hard life gets.”
There was nothing provocative about what he said, and it wasn’t contrived. It was just an old man talking about something true. A wonderful thing. The young woman remained still, and her face softened as she realized how honest he was. The look of accusation in her eyes disappeared and was replaced with something else. It could have been gratitude, surprise, or even regret for jumping to conclusions.
Without saying a word, she walked forward and kissed the old guy on the cheek. It was a short, lovely gesture that conveyed “thank you” without needing to. Then she smiled—really smiled—and ran away, her music playing again as she ran down the walk.
The two men watched her leave. The one who had been kissed stayed still, a small smile on his lips. After a moment, he turned to his pal and muttered in a dry voice, “Three–zero.” It’s your turn.
The companion laughed in a wheezy way and shook his head as if he had lost. He laughed and said, “You always get the lucky breaks.”
Of course, there wasn’t really a scoreboard between them. But they had learned to keep things enjoyable by having times like this. They reassured each other and themselves that there were still surprises in store. Little wins. People you don’t know are being nice. A kiss on the cheek when you least expect it.
They sat together for a little longer, their hearts a little lighter. The silence between them was now filled with the soft sound of their shared laughter. It wasn’t just about the girl or the joke. It was about being alive enough to enjoy both.
The bench turned out to be more than just a bench. It was as if they were seated in the front row of a performance unfolding before them, actively participating in the experience.
