The Old Man
An elderly man.
He lives somewhere nearby, perhaps on the next street.
I regularly meet him in the mornings as I leave the house.
Today, he is not there.
I noticed his absence.
I had grown accustomed to meeting him here, at this very moment.
What happened?
Why isn’t he here?
I need to find out why.
And suddenly I realized: I don’t know who he is.
I don’t know where he lives.
Through our daily encounters, he filled my world, enriching my young life with the special meaning of those morning moments.
Today, he is not here.
But why?
I had grown used to him.
Used to meeting him here.
Meeting him now.
I just need to wait.
He will come.
He is bound to appear.
He has simply been delayed for a moment...
The moments stretch into hours.
He is not here.
He will not come.
That much is certain.
So be it!
What is he to me?
Why am I waiting for him?
I lived before without ever noticing him.
“But what if he never lived on the next street at all?” the thought suddenly struck me.
Then why did I meet him here?
Did he come simply to say “Good morning” to me?
Did he come especially for me?
I barely noticed him.
I noticed only his absence.
I noticed him only when he was gone.
How deeply I began to miss his calm “Good morning,” his gentle gaze into my eyes, his kind look following me as I walked away...
Whenever I step outside, I hope to meet him again.
I wait for him to come.
I comfort myself with the certainty that we will meet again.
Not here...
Not now...
Someday...
In the future.
I will be able to thank him for his patience.
He will understand.
He will forgive me.
I hope...
Time flies relentlessly.
Now I am no longer young myself.
An old man.
I walk along the same streets.
Recently, my eyes picked out a young man in the crowd.
A young man in a hurry.
A young man who notices no one in his path.
His eyes...
Something long familiar flashed within them.
Yes—yes, that very spark, that radiant gaze!
Now, every morning, I come to his door.
I walk toward him.
I smile gently and offer my calm greeting:
“Good morning.”
He barely notices me, cheerfully mutters something in reply, and hurries off on his way.
And I watch him for a long time as he disappears into the distance, my gaze filled with kindness.
There is little left for me.
But I need nothing more.
Now I know for certain: the day will come when he will notice me.
I will wait.
Author: G Un