Tag Archive | loneliness

The Lonely Man – part two.


photo (1)

 

Tom listened to Martin chatting away.  He knew what Martin was trying to do, but it wasn’t working.  Nevertheless he appreciated the effort and tried hard to give back a little of the kindness that Martin was sharing with him.  Martin droned on and Tom attempted a smile, but soon he was lost in his thoughts again and his coffee turned cold and the sun went in behind a cloud.

He remembered happier times in his life and tried to recapture the moments.  We all do that, don’t we?  A certain smell of flowers, grass even or perfume can take us back to our childhood or a time when the colours of our life were brighter and sounds were clearer, summers were longer.  Tom remembered the smell of a field where he used to play as a child with a group of friends. In that time he was closer to the ground. Sometimes crawling along on his tummy like a soldier and all the small animals were right in front of his nose.  Mice and voles scuttled away and the pungent smell of the weeds and flowers in such close proximity filled his mind with their presence.

‘So Tom, Tamsin and I would love it if you came over to our place on Sunday and shared our barbecue.  What do you think? Some of her friends will be there too.’

Tom smiled a little.  He appreciated the thought and ‘hell, why not. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain.’

‘Thanks Martin.  I’d love to come.  What time do you suggest?’

‘Whenever you’re ready Tom. Just turn up – late afternoon would be ideal.’

‘P

Ok mate. I’ll see you there; oh and thanks…’

Martin returned to his own table feeling pleased.  Well, it’s a start, at least he thought.

 

Over by the window, her cake now finished, Pat brushed the crumbs from her blouse and reached down to get her handbag so she could check her face in the small mirror, which was a gift from her late husband.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mick coming towards her so she aborted the mirror and went for her handkerchief instead. It wouldn’t do for Mick to think she was vain.  It was two years since Pat’s husband, Dick Clark, died. Every day that passed since Pat found herself thinking about him.  Sometimes the thoughts made her laugh or smile as memories came back, but more often she felt a tear in her eye at a reminder of some past event that they shared together.  Now though she must move on in life.  It was time to look ahead, not back.  There could be new memories to come, but they would need a little encouragement. She was still attractive and she still had much to give and wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to go to the theatre with now and then or out on one of those inviting day trips she kept reading about in the daily paper.

Take that nice young man in the corner for instance, the one with the striped jumper. He shouldn’t be looking so down and depressed.  What could have happened to him?  Perhaps he’s lost his job or failed his exams? Maybe his girlfriend has finished with him.  He looked well cared for.  Perhaps he’s been living at home and now he’s been told he has to move out.  We all have our problems, thought Pat.

She looked up into Mick’s kind, smiling face.  He wanted to know if she had enjoyed the cake and if today was a special occasion.

‘Yes, it’s my birthday today,’ she told him, ‘so I thought I’d give myself a treat.’

Mick smiled broadly and replied ‘Well we can’t let this day go without celebrating, how about another cup of coffee, on the house?’

to be continued …

+++

ps Yesterday I noticed that someone from The Faulkland Islands had looked at my Blog. I want to say ‘welcome’ to that person in particular because as you all may know, The Faulkland Islands belongs to Britain, even though it is on the far corner of the world. I was delighted to see that one of our own had found my Blog. It made my day.

Oma

The Lonely Man


IMG_1538
The sun is shining in the Paradise City. A man enters a cafe that smells of happiness. Friends are seated at adjacent tables and they look up as he comes in. They smile when they recognise him, but he seems preoccupied. A chain of worries hangs around his neck and weighs heavy on his already strained shoulders. He buys a coffee and takes it to a seat in the corner where the sun cannot reach and taking a spoon he adds sugar and begins stirring, seeing only the world through the steam and fog of loneliness that his mind cannot shift…

The man in the cafe, the lonely man, was not young any-more, although not old either. He had seen many birthdays come and go and not all in the Paradise City. One of his friends stood up and came across, heading for the table in the corner where the sun didn’t shine. He wore a smile and a cloak of greeting as his hand came up and touched his forehead briefly.

The man in the corner, the lonely man, looked fuzzy today, not quite all there, lost in the mist. A flicker of warmth appeared in his eyes. He looked up, then down again, watching the swirling coffee as it whirl pooled around the spoon.

“What’s up?” asked the friend.

It was the first real voice the man had heard all week…

The lonely man, let’s call him Tom, was wearing jeans and a striped sweater, which suited him, thought the grey haired lady in her early sixties. She had chosen to sit at a table by the window where the sun streamed in and sent sparks of light from her knife. Carefully she cut her cake in half and lifted a portion of it to her mouth. The cake was a treat because it was her birthday and she wanted to spoil herself. To go with it she had a large coffee mocha, but that turned out to be a mistake because she found it sickly. She persevered, determined to enjoy her special day, which was just beginning. She looked across at Tom, whose friend was now seated opposite him, attempting to engage the sadness in Tom’s eyes with some lively conversation.
The owner of the Humming Bird cafe looked around at the tables to see how many were occupied on such a sunny morning in Paradise City. He noted with satisfaction that almost all the tables were hosting. The sun always brings out the customers, he thought as he mopped up a spillage on the counter. Next he checked to see how many regulars were present. There in the corner was Tom, looking sad and preoccupied, talking and listening to his friend Martin, who always seemed to have an entourage. Opposite and by the window sat Pat, eating a cake and stroking her newly coiffured grey hair. It must be a special occasion, thought Mick and he made up his mind to ask her what it could be. Mick was a widower and so much of his social life revolved around his work. Wiping his hands on a tea towel attached to his apron, he made his way towards Pat’s sunny table…

 

to be cont’d …