The elderly man walks down the sidewalk with a simple black point and shoot camera in his hand. A gift from his two sons and daughter. Get out of the house they say. The truth is that I had not left my house since Ella, my wife, died five years ago. My beautiful children did everything for me, everything I did not have the spirit to do. I had been out not five minutes and started to head back home with no pictures taken. I walked up to my door and saw a sign on the door, “We know you just went up to the Davis house, five houses away, before turning around. We took your keys and will not let you back in for at least an hour. Signed, your Beautiful, Loving children.” Somehow I knew something like this would happen. Letting out a sigh, I headed toward the park.

I stepped on the old cracked sidewalk, lift my camera and started randomly pressing the shutter button, not bothering to look at what appears on the impossibly small screen. I went to sit on the signature painted bench and slowly drifted to sleep. When I woke up, I looked around for a minute or two trying to remember where I was and why. Then it came to me, my darn kids’ scheme to get me out. Looking up, there was a slight pink in the sky compared to the harsh blue that had covered the sky when I left my house. I woke up the rest of my achy body and motivated it to get up and head home.

Walking up to my house, I saw one of my sons had drifted off to sleep on my steps. I chuckled softly as I gently nudged him awake with my foot. I would have left him there to teach him a lesson but then again, he had the keys to my door. He shook his head as he woke up and tossed me the keys while scrambling to catch the camera I threw at him. I heard him mumbling something as I closed the door between us.

The next day, I went to check my mail and saw a small package a little bigger than my hand. I ripped open the packaging and found random photos inside from my day at the park yesterday. The ones that were not blurry are of blades of grass and trees or my feet. I threw the pictures on the table, not even bothering to look at the rest. Then I noticed a small yellow note flutter to the floor. After a few attempts at picking it up, I went to get a broom and put some glue at the handle before sticking it onto the note, lifting it to me. I started to read, “Here are the interesting pictures you took yesterday. By the way, who is the lady?” I scrambled back to the mess of pictures on my kitchen table, sorting through them to find this lady. After a few minutes, I figured the kids are just messing with me until a certain picture caught my eye. I slowly picked up the picture in amazement. There in the very corner of a sideways scene of grass and trees, was a woman, about ten years my junior, with her eyes closed with her lips puckered and hands near her mouth, blowing a kiss in my direction. I stood there and mesmerized by the picture. The delicate wave of her soft grey hair, the folded wrinkles playing with her baby soft skin, the long thin fingers begged to be held. I needed to meet this beautiful woman.
The next few days everything was chaos with the woman haunting my dreams. I already called everyone I knew about her, but no one seemed to know her. I was beginning to think it was all a dream and went back to my daily schedule. Then a knock came from the door. My daughter came through the door with the largest smile I had ever seen. Behind her came a very petite voice, delicate waves of soft grey hair, folded wrinkles playing with baby soft skin, and long thin fingers begged to be held.
One year later, I stand in front of fifty people thinking about how much my life has changed because of a little black box and three angry children, sick of me not doing anything. Shaking in my shoes, I listen to the most precious words coming from a beautiful woman with delicate waves of soft grey hair, folded wrinkles playing with her baby soft skin, and the long thin fingers that I plan to hold forever whisper, “I do.”