This is a short story by Paulie: Old Man As we were walking down the sidewalk from the docks, I interrupted Pub’s ramblings in order to draw his attention to a particularly poignant sight. About a block down the road an old man in a raggedy jacket was standing and staring through a fence, his hands grasping at the posts. He was looking out to sea and at the boats floating upon the waves. I commented to Pub that the scene struck me as a somewhat sad one. I asked him what he thought of the man, and as we approached him we made up a little story about his life. We imagined him as a lonely man who was a sailor in his younger days. Now that he was too old to sail, he spent his days watching the sea and the ships come and go from the port, every hour hoping one of the ship captains would walk past him and ignoring his age, ask if he would join his ship’s crew and once again sail over the Mediterranean Sea. As we came closer to him, Pub wondered aloud if we should speak to him but when I was close enough to look in his eyes, I told Pub we should not bother him. He had a pained longing look in his eyes, as if the story we made for him was the god’s honest truth. After we past him, I turned around and took a picture of him staring through the fence. To this day when I look at that picture, or think of that old man, I can relive that moment in my mind’s eye, and see his pained expression, and whenever I do, I believe we were right in our impression. Then I wonder if that man ever did make it back to the sea and his life as a sailor. For his sake, and all of ours, I hope he did, for it would be a shred of hope that our dreams are not dreamt in vain.

 

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