His skin, an historic shade of gray, hangs in folds over his neck and in wrinkled pendulums above his elbows. In one hand he holds a walking stick, the other a closed umbrella he uses like a cane. He can’t afford a walker, but that doesn’t stop him from inching his way down SE Salmon on a sunny Saturday. Pausing to catch his breath, he peers into the blue spruce to look for the Junco he’s certain he heard calling. He hikes his pants back up over his rib cage, the make-shift crutches dangling from his arthritic wrists. Nothing stops him from finding a shade of joy on this July day.
Break open my heart.
Her hair is an historic shade of salt and pepper gray – still perfectly coifed and ample. She pushes a walker with an attached oxygen tank. Bent like an oak branch, brittle and dignified, she inches her way up SE Salmon. Nothing stops her from greeting her boyfriend on this bright July morning.
Break open my heart.
