Mr. Curmudgeon

I have a new friend. I think he is probably in his mid-80’s. It developed slowly over time side by side on treadmills. I still don’t know his name.

During the other rehab, I would step onto a treadmill about the same time of day. He also would be on the treadmill during those same times. We began to talk. Briefly.

He was a total curmudgeon.

Somehow, I got him to laugh. Pretty soon, if I didn’t show up at the same time and we missed walking together, he would swing by and comment on my lateness. Pretty soon, when I didn’t show up because I was sick, he would comment that he missed me. Pretty soon, we began to talk about more important things. Pretty soon, he was telling me about his parents and his life.

The curmudgeon is actually a very sweet, very ill, very scared and very tender man.

Last week, he sat down next to me at the arm bikes after missing me on the treadmill. “Hi cutie pie,” I said. He giggled gruffly, but it was still a giggle.

New friend.