• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 10
Image by

The Certain Old Man

The old man, in his Alzheimer’s
years, did curious things; once
took his lawn mower and backpack
and got on the metro, certain
where he was going. Happy,
but really lost. “Gonna go,” he’d said,
“need a job.” We thought he didn’t
know what he was doing,
his mind fumbling in the dark
tunnels; he had mentioned God
was on the metro last week,
looking to hire, had an open spot.
But by the time we arrived
at the station, the conductor said
they found only a lawn mower
and a backpack. The man missing,
gone to greener pastures. He was
our grandfather, certain in faith.