Old Man 80

Author's Note: In class, we had to write about the opposite gender's POV, and more specifically, the person had to be in love. We picked cards with a number on it, and that was the age of our person. Here's my piece about an 80 year-old man in love!

I will always remember her flowers. The smell of her hair, the pattern of her dresses, the gifts after a performance. She was a dancer and a singer, my most favorite one of all. So beautiful and talented, I hated when the curtains would close. When they would reopen, I stood up, clapping the loudest of them all. I tried to stand out, I really did. She never noticed...Or did she?I would always try to get backstage, but security would never let me through. I jumped over the fence. Or did I crawl under it? Well, I got in. Her voice was soft, or maybe it was light? Or hoarse? Whichever, I loved her. And I would always bring her flowers. I would always remember the flowers.

Now I live in a retirement home, for old folk like me. I house in room 84. Or is it 48? Either way, not a day goes by without me thinking about her. Her name was Lyla. Maybe Lydia? The name doesn't matter anymore. I will never see her again. She's gone, like my memory. But, I will never forget the flowers. I see one right now. It was yellow, like her hair... I think. Maybe it was light brown though...Hmm. Well, it would be gray now anyways. I look up. There's a speaker above my head, and music is playing. I think it was her favorite song. She always used to dance to it. Or did she sing to it at a musical?

Suddenly I see an old woman walk into the room. Now--I've been here for 6 years and I've never seen her before. She stood out when she walked into the room. Few wrinkles aged her face. Her hair, white and pure. Unlike the others. She stood out. She was different. As she talked to the front desk, I moved closer, slowly. She smelled sorta like...

"Hi,"Came a voice from behind the white-haired beauty. I looked slightly past her and saw a man about my age.

She hesitated, but answered with a smile. "Hi dear. Have you made up your mind?"

"No," He responded with a sigh. "I don't think I like it here, it's just too... pastime and depressing."

The woman standing beside him didn't acknowledge his decision, she instead looked right at me.

Flowers. She smelled like flowers. I looked into her eyes, trying to recollect memories from our youth. Was it her? Could it be? She smiled at me. It looked so familiar...

As she walked away, I noticed her dress. The flowers--they looked the same. Her hair from the back--it was still beautiful, even in the gray of old age.

I didn't say anything, but I probably should've. She was still walking away, further and further.......

Lily! Her name was Lily.