As he walked down the road before him, he hoped the man in front of him didn't notice. Or didn't think that he was following him. That was not his intent - just coincidence. He took this route everyday back from work. A tad longer than a few others he knew about, but there was something charming about walking through the back streets of the neighborhood, especially today, as the ground was still moist from a late afternoon shower. Freshly fallen leaves plastered to the asphalt like nature's version of cobblestones, the air still smelled of lingering ozone, drops of dew sparkled on the leaves of the trees that lined the street.
But the best part of it all was the man in front of him.
Just shuffling along. Minding his own business, seemingly enjoying his walk just as much. Making his way home from the grocery store - bags hanging on both sides, swaying with each step. Every now and then he'd stop and look up to the sky as if he wished for another brief shower. Almost lowering it disappointingly when no droplets answered his inquiry. Occasionally he'd purposefully shuffle his feet, disrupting the leaves that were below him - stopping to look down at their marvelous patterns and colors. By the way the man walked, he could tell he was older. His back was hunched, his steps were small and calculated. Every couple of minutes he'd switch the bags between his hands - resting one on the ground as he flexed his fingers, hoping to get some feeling back into them before picking the bags up and continuing on.
Eventually the older man ahead stopped and without wanting his walk to end, he did as well. He could tell that the gentleman was looking over a fence into a park at a jungle gym where a bunch of kids were playing. Utilizing the fresh layer of rain on the slide. Laughing and yelling at one another. Running back and forth. As he peered in also, a memory came flying back to him.
Again he was walking. But this time in a completely different city. At a different time of day. With different smells in the air and real cobblestones beneath his feet. All around him people were still out wandering the street - late for where he came from. Engaging one another in conversation, in languages he wasn't familiar with. He couldn't specifically remember why but he could feel a smile on his face. Slowly, as the memory kept flying back, it all become more clear. He had been following another older gentleman, weaving through tight streets until he was standing in a plaza - bundled up against the colder winter air that was swirling down the streets. Within that plaza were a group of children, cheering and shouting at one another, engaged in a bout of soccer. Chasing the ball back and forth, not a care in the world. Amazingly, all around them the plaza was alive. Shops remained open, cafes still served patrons. Everyone was just living, enjoying their evening. There was an energy and vibrance unlike any he had ever felt before, packed into such a small space.
By this point of the memory it had almost completely returned to the forefront of his mind. And it suddenly hit him. The reason for the smile. He wasn't alone. Although he couldn't see them, he could feel them, their warmth to his left, the pressure of their hand in his. It was just a small memory, but a perfect one.
Snapping back to reality and the damp street, he decided to continue on his way. As he passed by the older gentleman who was still marveling at the youth playing before him he whispered "thank you." Somehow he had shaken free a moment that had been forgotten, lost amongst of sea of others.
He felt indebted to the man.
For he had brought back a happiness he hadn't felt in some time.
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