There is an older man on my street who at one point was very tall, perhaps 6’3″ or 6’4″. Now, with age and a stoop and a shuffle, he’s about 6′, which means he still towers over me. He walks every evening. I walked late the last week, so I saw him around the neighborhood. I’ve seen him all year off and on, but this week there was no denying we were on the same schedule. I was walking behind him on my way home (we live four houses apart) when I realized how tall he is. I’ve never been so close to him before.
“I’m not as fast as I used to be,” he said over his shoulder. “Feel free to pass me up.”
“I’m not in any hurry.”
I made it to my driveway and was aware of that awkward moment where two people who see each other all the time but don’t really know each other are about to part ways. I debated it for a second before I turned around and said, “Okay, see you tomorrow!”
He smiled and said, “Same time, same station.”