at the end of it all,...

a grizzled old man sits collecting his thoughts at the end of a day. Part of this assemblage is the recollection of events & the pondering of decisions he has made not only for that day, but throughout his life as well. A lifetime of calm memories seep back into his mind and find a warm resting place after a brief absence. This reminisce can be compared to a young child returning to his or her own bed after an aborted sleepover. Upon arrival, these snap shots gently speak, 1 at a time, taking their turns. Battles fought, women loved, broken bones suffered, but even the slightest hint of remorse dare not show it's face. Here, at the end of it all, there's allowed not a moment for this attrition.

All that can be heard besides the wanning wind is the proverbial creaking & cracking of the antique rocking chair he's sitting in. Those old bones give way to a similar yearn from time to time, but the warmth of his heart suppresses the coldness that his age has set upon him. That pumping, muscular organ is wrapped in a gentleness the same way some large dogs behave around small infants. Cautious, timid, innocent.

Here on this porch, at the end of it all, the salt & pepper whiskers & wrinkles can't hide the almost mischievous smile that appears on the old mans face. He realizes with the impending doom, NO,.....impending bliss of his last breath, that he's lived not a perfect life, but one devoid of any regret. With this capitulation he serenely slips off the precipice of life, slowly sinking down into the warm, friendly haven of darkness and calm. His life is no more,

here,

at the end of it all.