I watch this man walking in, tired in the evenings. Before he can keep his things down, he walks into the man's room. The man's face lights up. I love to see the duo.
As the son rattles off his questions. How are you feeling? Is the pain still there? Then he looks at me, shoots off some more.
Did you do this and that? Ah, yes..I reply a wee bit impatiently.

He doesn't rest. "I wanna sit," says the old man.
In a jiffy, he's seated.
Pampered and surrounded with ohs and nos.

I run back to finish off my stuff, but keep looking slyly into the room. To watch their faces..the light banter between father and son.

He has eyes only for him. Others are quickly dimmed from view. "When will he come? Has he already?" he keeps bugging me all day.

Now as I write this, the bell's rung. I can imagine the son quickening a few brisk paces to see his dear dad. Who waited all day to meet him.
Who once was too busy..reading ..writing...teaching..preaching.
Now lies helpless. Waiting to be pulled upright, fed, wiped clean. Like a delicately old baby.

I watch and I watch. As the son quickly gives orders, rebukes mildly. Quickly runs to the stores to replenish dwindling supplies. For the old man.
His dad.

I watch and I watch. How the young grow old and then childlike again!
It's a cycle. But so refreshing to watch two similar faces but entirely different personalities sharing a bond..a splendid one.

I watch and I watch.
It's simply amazing!

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