A Man I Met

There was a man I met early in my life that sat across the street.  He sat and watched and never seemed to talk to anyone.  Just sat in peace and watched as time went by.  He looked to be in his sixties.  Grey hair, grey eyes, grey stubble, old wrinkles and old grey clothes.

I walked by his bench one day and he spoke to me.
"Gettin' cold out, huh," he said turning his head slightly.  I looked around, making sure he was speaking to me.  This was the first time I ever heard him speak let alone talking to someone.
"Yeah, a bit chilly these days," I replied.
"Yes, a lot of grey.  Your name is Matthew right?" he asked placing his hands into his coat pockets.
"Yeah, how did you know that?"
"Oh, I know a lot of things Matthew.  You know, the orange of autumn is coming. I can see it in the trees.  These sidewalks will soon be filled with orange leaves and then dry, brittle, brown ones.  Such is life huh."
I nodded my head in agreement still curious how he knew my name.  "Do you know my mom?"
"Have a seat Matthew.  You're young, you can still enjoy the blissful ignorance of time.  How old are ya?  Twenty-six?"
Again I nodded my head.  Something about the way he talked seemed familiar but unsettling.
"Yeah, I thought so.  You young kids will miss the season's changing when they're gone.  All this, the trees, the grass, all of it, its all gonna die and become grey."
"You mean like global warming and all that?" I asked.
"No, I mean like the world will eventually die and all that will be left is a grey floating rock.  It wont be gradual either.  Death sometimes is as sudden as a heart attack or a bullet to the head," he said lifting his chin up toward the grey sky and inhaling a deep breath of cold air. "And then you're left with nothing more than a fast rotting carcass and shit in your pants.  Nothing gradual or pretty about that huh Matthew."
"Well, I think there's some time before that happens.  I don't think the earth is on the verge of turning into a complete rock."
"You would think," he replied looking up into the trees.  "The trees seem to be giving up these days.  Nothing much one can do when something gives up.  But humans are resilient," he said folding his leg over the other.  "You'll be left with a floating rock and you'll just live on.  Stripping away your morals and your humanity for survival until you finally become nothing.  Slowly to dwindle away into another relic of the past," he continued  as he pulled an oak smoking pipe from his coat pocket.  He slammed it against the side of the bench a few times emptying it out and placing fresh tobacco in it.  He placed the end in his mouth and before lighting he said, "I wonder sometimes if things can change," he then lit the match and sucked and puffed and sucked and puffed until he knew the tobacco was burning well.  "But then I realize," he continued as he rested his pipe in his lap, "its all been done before and right now is nothing more than someone's memory somewhere."
I finally sat down next to him.  "What do you mean?" I asked.
"Oh my mind," he said pausing for a moment, rubbing the temples of his head with his thumb and pointer finger, "...my mind has seen more lifetimes than should be allowed.  I've given up on my past, whatever that is in the end and have decided to enjoy the changing of the seasons," he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, smelling the autumn air.  There was a coldness that carried the dirt smell of brittle orange leaves and stale yellow grass.  You could definitely smell autumn coming.  "I see all the grey that is slowly showing itself and it just reminds me of a past still not yet," he said taking another puff of his pipe.  "You know, time, it all happens at the same time.  Like pages in a book, all on top of each other and each with its own part of the story.  Floating in its own second."  He stopped a moment letting the smoke snake out of his mouth.  "You can go through page by page and make sense of it but you can always skip to the end and spoil it for yourself."  He looked at me, "but time is not quite like a book is it," he said searching for something, "because its not always the same," he said as he pulled a small picture from his pocket.  His eyes stared for a moment to the picture and began again.  "It's something I'd like to think anyway."  He got up and walked away smoking his pipe.

Years pass, I get married and have two girls with my wife.  The summers seem longer and the winters seem colder.  That man sat one day outside where I worked and at first I wrestled with my mind if it was the same man.  No way it could be, he hadn't aged one bit.  It had been maybe fifteen years since I talked to him.  It was his pipe that convinced me.  I walked over to him.
"I was wondering if you would come over here Matthew," he said sucking on his pipe.
"Who are you?"
"Oh, a friend....for now," he said.  I didn't like how he said it though, almost like a threat.
"What do you want?"
"How are the season's treatin' ya these days?  Are you enjoying them?"
I just looked on silently.
"Autumn is my favorite time of year.  I love the smell.  How's your wife?  You know, I can still remember how scrawny you looked when you were twenty-six.  Almost as if it were yesterday, actually, it was just yesterday.  Funny.  Do you remember that conversation?"
It was strange, I could.  Almost every word of it.  "Yes," I replied.  "Who are you?" I asked again.
"I'm just a relic of the past.  But everyone still has a job to do.  I just love..."
I interrupted him, "What the hell do you want?  Why are you here?"
He looked at me silently as he sucked on his pipe. "You know, death is a curious bitch.  Just beneath the veil, after you close your eyes for the last time and pass that last second of life, you don't see heaven or hell, you see nothing but yourself and everything you've ever know in one blinding flash.  It's not God that reminds you, its the Devil," he stopped a moment to take a puff from his pipe.  "You see," he said licking his lips, "God doesn't really take part in earthly affairs.  Doesn't dabble.  The Devil however, " he said holding his pipe with his teeth, "loves dabbling.  You made a choice Matthew, not yet but eventually and its one I'm gonna collect on.  I'm not without sympathy, I like to converse with those I pity.  You, most of all, I pity.  There's a lot more grey these days.  Enjoy the seasons.  Enjoy the time you have because forever is a god damned long time.  Go home Matthew.  Kiss your wife.  Kiss your girls.  And smell the autumn air because it won't be around forever."