On the Bench

On the Bench

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

The voice startled me, I was sitting on a bench at the park. It’s what I usually do when I’m there, though I let certain members of my family think I’m walking the whole time... Some people feel people my age need to be treated like children. I just let them, it makes them happy. However, I do not always do what they decide I should be doing just because they think it’s good for me.

I looked up. The sun was in my eyes, but I could tell from the fuzzy white hair that it was an older head. Knowing I could probably flatten most people in my age bracket, I felt safe. “I don’t know,” I said.

He sat down. His hair was white, but his skin a lovely tanned color and rosy cheeks, really cute, but I had no idea who he was. “You don’t look familiar,” I said.

“Oh, well I think it was a while ago,” he said.

“Oh,” I added, “from Pennsylvania maybe?”

“Yes! That’s it!” he said, excitedly. Sadly, I’d never been to Pennsylvania, let alone lived there. He was just a scam artist.

“Yes, I had my treatments in Pennsylvania.”

“Oh dear, treatments for what?”

“Oh,” I said, acting as if I’d just misspoken, “Nothing! Nothing important, it’s almost gone already!”

He stood up. Not willing to let him off that easily, I took his hand as if to keep him there, and then I sneezed on it!

He pulled it back quickly, but just let it hang there covered with wet sneeze. “Oh, I just remembered who I thought you were, my mistake,” he hurried away.

I didn’t live for eighty-two years by being a pushover. I must admit, I giggled all the way home!