It is cold and quiet He doesn’t mind. He is content just to sit there. Nobody is disturbing his thoughts. He is not a believer. Religion and church has never had a meaning for him. But he likes the place. Empty, cold, sad and lonely, just like him. An old house, abandoned, forgotten and not needed anymore.
His children are gone. His wife left many years ago. He didn’t mind. He had his job, his buddies at the bar, his beer and his Bourbon, TV, his car, every first Sunday dinner with his sister. Once a week a quick trip to that apartment where he could fulfill his other needs. It felt enough. He had been content. He didn’t need anyone.
Then, just five years ago he became a pensioner. It felt good in the beginning. Now and then he visited the other guys at the warehouse, where he had worked all his life, but after a while he felt he was standing in their way. They were too busy to talk.
He had a small house and started tending the garden. Went fishing with the neighbor every now and again, fixing things in the house. It felt great not getting up early. In winter he started watching TV at midday, snoozing on the couch. The evenings got longer and sleep was harder to find. He thought about getting a dog. Instead he started writing long emails to his children, getting short ones in return. Found out that he had a grandson, already three years old. He looked at his photo on Facebook and didn’t feel anything.
After a while there were fewer emails and eventually they stopped. He didn’t mind much.
Then, one morning he woke up and realized that he couldn’t remember when he had last talked to another person. He hadn’t left the house for days. He put on his good leather jacket and went on the bus. Got off after 30 minutes, not knowing where he was. Walked a bit, passed that old church and noticed the doors were ajar. He went in.
Now he has been sitting on that hard bench for hours. Alone, but he doesn’t mind. It is peaceful here. Somehow he feels welcome and less alone. Maybe he will come back.
This was written for day 4 of Blogging University Writing101