On the roadway, I met an old man. As he walked toward me, and I to him, I thought to have us pass without a word, for his eyes were downcast and his shoulders slumped.
At the last moment, he looked up in acknowledgement, saying “It is spring!”, then gave a little chuckle, raising a fist in the air.
I smiled, and made as if to speak, but he shrank back, seemingly in fear of a conversation or in regret of his exclamation.
He had been walking more slowly than I, and with a limp, and so I admired him all the more for his perseverance.
Smiling once again, I let him pass. An afterthought made me look back quickly to check his progress, but he was no longer there.
As there were no houses in sight, only open fields, I stopped in wonder.
When I reached home, I saw that my hour’s walk had turned to two.
Aremyfeetofftheground 
I replied on your blog but looks like email is better. How’s it going?
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Hi, Jessica. It’s good to hear from you, too. I’m not too bad. Haven’t been writing much, as you can tell. I think about your old posts and stories on Twitter, from time to time, and remember them with fondness. I hope you’re doing okay, too.
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Ooh Lee, good one. Been a while; glad to see you!
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Oh—my comment was unintentionally “Anonymous.” It’s Superball!
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It’s good to hear from you too, Jessica. I hope you’ve been doing okay. 😊
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