Recapturing Youth

There are desperate measures to recapture your youth. I've seen them. They usually involve changing appearances: botox shots, hair transplants, hair dyes, cheerleader uniforms and whatnot. They are pathetic.

Mr. Gilbert went to the park today. The weather finally thawed after 3 months of long, dark, cold winter. The air was still chilly and his back and knees ached. The walk to the park was quite an exercise for him. The ground was finally dry, covered in soft dirt with green sprouts of grass coming out here and there in patches. On the pond, there were ducks, geese making ruckuses, splashing and chasing each other. There were some swans too with their long graceful figures, trotting slowly on the surface of the water. Did you know that swan chicks are speckled with brown feathers? Even though they are just as big as their parents, they don't go completely white until they are fully mature. It stuck Gilbert as funny to see those big brown ones following their mother so diligently.

Gilbert noticed that there was another middle-aged man in his track suit across the pond who was also watching the birds intently. The man waved. Gilbert awkwardly raised his hand in response. The man was pointing at the swan chicks. Gilbert nodded and smiled. Then the man pointed at his feet. Confusing. He kept repeating this. Swans then the ground, swans, ground. Gilbert was lost. The man then took off his jacket. It was pretty cold still. He was wearing a white t-shirt. He was pointing at Gilbert now. Then he laid himself down on the ground and started rolling. He must be mad, Gilbert thought. The man got up, brushed himself off but was still covered in brown dirt. He then pointed at himself and then the swan chicks again. Gilbert understood then. He took off his jacket and laid himself down on soft earth and started rolling.
Here, one sunny, cool afternoon in the park, two middle-aged men in t-shirts were rolling on the ground, trying to recapture their youth.
 

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

What a great little story--and one that I, in the afternoon of my life, can relate to. I too, have thought about what makes us old or young, and I've concluded that our age in years is not entirely the deciding factor. In most ways, I'm still 17 inside--it's the achy joints, gray hair and frequent need of medical care that betrays me.

[Sammy]

There are a few errors in it, some of them more subjective than others:
Firstly the capitalised "Botox".
Long, dark, cold winter I found a bit of a cliche.
I'm not sure whether it's an American thing, but can you say "sprouts of lawn" as opposed to "sprouts of grass"? to me it sounds like saying "sprouts of park".
The swans should have long graceful figureS

It was a sweet ending, and I liked that you had something definite to say in this piece. Most writers have very little at all to say, and I think that's the problem with 90% of short pieces.

[mirui]

This is a great story and kind of funny, when they start to roll around on the ground.