New City of Peace

For Robert.

Leaving McDonald's the other day,
I was slowed behind a 90-year-old man,
Scooting with a walker toward the passenger door of a full-sized truck
Parked immediately to the left of my mini-van.

Following the older man walked a young man of 72,
A member of the community club where my father is president,
Who hurried not the pace of his older and more decrepit friend,
Slowed only by age.

It seemed unfitting for me to pass by them,
Squeezing discreetly and furtively,
Slipping into my van just moments before
The old man could complete his long trek across the parking lot.

So I stood far away, watching them approach their destination,
The old man and the young man,
Who walked slowly together,
From the McDonald's where they had shared life between cups of coffee.

The old man surrendered his walker to the young,
When he reached the door at the end of his journey,
And the younger man lowered the gate of his truck
Into which lifted the wheeled walker.

But a stubborn castor could not be raised above the lowered gate without difficulty.
As I passed by, I lifted the wheel and offered,
"It must work, somehow."
"Yes," he said, and smiled. "It must."