Growing Old

“Hey, Jason, did you need any help with your homework?” inquired old Theodore, Jason’s father.

“No thanks, I am going over to Garret’s place to study,” shouted Jason from his room.

“No thanks…” a phrase that has become all to common to Theodore in recent years. His daughter, Breanna, started her first year of college and now lives in the dorms a few states away. Jason, while still in high school, got his license last summer and got an old beater from a police auction. Ever since his mother passed away two years ago, Jason spends more time over at his friends’ houses.

Turning away from his son’s door Theodore replied, “you have fun at Garret’s. Give me a holler if you need anything.” Theodore walked back down the warmly lit hallway of his home towards his workshop in the garage. To think just a few years ago I couldn’t blink without one of those kids needing something, Theodore reminisced. 

Almost every chair, table, and even wooden spoon in the house were made in this workshop. His wife always gave him a hard time for not using any electrical tools. “You’d have more time to use what you built if your tools weren’t as old as you,” she’d say. For Theodore, however, the age and simplicity of the tools gave his work so much more meaning.

Flicking on the bright workshop lights, Theodore looked around at all of the unfinished projects sitting around. A slab of cherrywood he was going to make a desk out of for Breanna before she bought one online that was more “stylish,” a chess set that he and Jason were working on before Jason got bored of working on it, and then a new backrest for one of the kitchen chairs. After the passing of his wife and then with Breanna moving out, Theodore could never bring himself to fix that broken chair.

Walking to the back where the wood was kept, Theodore grabbed out a block of aspen and let out a soft sigh, “She deserves another horse.” His wife loved horses. She grew up near a horse ranch and would be in awe whenever she got to pass by one of the many horses there. Theodore would carve out a wooden horse every few weeks and leave it at her grave so she could still be close to them. Shortly after getting situated at his carving bench, Theodore heard the front door slam and Jason’s car start up. “Bye,” Theodore whispered to himself as tears started to run down his weathered face. Some made their way into his salt and pepper beard, others trickled down onto the table and his tools.

Theodore’s house sat in silence outside of the faint sounds of a chisel slowly transforming the block of wood into the rough shape of a horse. There were no more kids arguing in the house, nor his wife watching her shows in the living room. Even Theodore’s own thoughts seemed to be drowned out by this silence that he has become so well acquainted with—only when the old grandfather clock would echo throughout the house was he brought back to the reality of his situation. His work never stopped, however, as what was just a boring piece of wood unmistakably took the shape of a galloping horse over the course of the afternoon.

Bringing the equine figurine inside Theodore walked his way to the kitchen. “A man can’t survive off of woodworking alone,” Theodore quietly laughed to himself while reaching into the fridge, “a sandwich should hold me over for a while.” Sitting down with his sandwich on one of the non-broken chairs, he noticed his phone was lit up. Reaching over, he saw he had a message from Jason: Staying @ Garret’s, cya tomorrow. “How these kids text like this and still manage to pass English always amazes me,” Theodore went to reply: Be safe and have a great time. Let me know when you will be home. “Guess it is just you and me tonight little fella,” Theodore mentioned to his recently carved wooden horse.

Or, maybe it wouldn’t be just the two of them as an idea found its way into Theodore’s head. Throwing his sandwich into a baggy, Theodore grabbed his meal, a water bottle, and the wooden horse and made his way outside and into his truck. It may be older than both of his children and have its fair share of dents and dings, but he kept this truck running year after year. By the time Theodore hit the road, the sun had already made its departure beyond the horizon, and a subtle glow from the moon and stars were visible beyond the dense light pollution of the city. 

Making his way beyond the outskirts of the city and into the country, Theodore arrived at his destination. A small, quaint church that was built back in the 1900s. For many decades, this was the only building outside of farmhouses that one could find for miles before the area developed rapidly back in the 70s. This was the church where both Theodore, and his parents, got married, and where he would go to attend mass as a child. Nowadays the church is only used for certain occasions such as funerals as it sits in front of the local cemetery where one could go to see the tombstones of the original families that lived there.

Walking from his car to the front gate of the cemetery, Theodore gave a friendly greeting to the groundskeeper, “Leonard? I thought they were making you retire before you worked yourself straight into one of the graves!”

“Theodore?” Leonard cheerily inquired, recognizing the familiar voice. “I’m just saving everyone the work of having to move me far when the day comes. You ever going to come visit when the cemetery is actually open?” jested Leonard as he unlocked the gate.

“Not a chance,” retorted Theodore, who gave Leonard a friendly pat on the shoulder as he walked by.

He made his way towards the back of the cemetery until he came across his wife’s stone. Sitting down next to it, he rummaged through his bag until he found the wooden horse.

“You know, these horses aren’t perfect. Then again, neither was I, and that never stopped you from loving me. The kids are doing fine, they don’t need me too much nowadays though now that they are all grown up. Not many people do need an old-fashioned guy like me anymore though. I know how it feels to not be needed, to be irrelevant. That is why I come visit though, because I will always need you…”