on your bike

pensive lonely

On your bike:::

I ring the doorbell and wait for the door to open. A woman opens the door and her eyes dance with anticipation at the sight of the letter addressed to her.

I smile.

Such little moments make my day.

As the door shuts on my face, I make my way down the stairs of the house. I wince as I discover a pain in my joints. After all, winter shows no mercy to people withered by age.

I tug at my torn sweater and adjust my monkey cap. Then, I ride my bicycle as fast as my joints allow me to, and look for the house whose address has been mentioned in my next letter.At the end of the day, I go to the only internet booth in our village.

The guy behind the counter ushers me to my seat and helps me open my email.

With trembling hands, I hit one key at a time. Slowly, I type out a letter; typing and erasing and hitting the keys with such concentration that sweat beads form on my forehead.

Then I call out to the guy to help me send the mail. Then, I pay him and leave.

That’s where my routine for the day ends and a feeling engulfs me.

I know this feeling all too well.

It’s the happy feeling of distributing letters the next day, and bringing smiles on the faces writ with anticipation, merged with the sad feeling of being the one who anticipates a single reply from his only son who lives in a different country.

The transformation from a man who spreads hope in the morning to a man who becomes an epitome of hopelessness in the evening creeps in so discreetly that by the time I realise it, I’ve already become a different person.

And as I ride my bicycle back to my home, the evening witnesses a familiar camaraderie between a postman and his solitude.

Author's Note

enjoy

Reviews

[Jacob Clifford]

Such a somber tale. I'm fortunate enough to still have the gift of youth, and I have the gift of optimism so I hope I don't end up living a sad life where I struggle to accomplish anything and feel fulfilled. This story is a good reminder of what life may hold in store and to appreciate our elders. Very powerful writing.

[danny]

i thank you very much

[Samuel Dickens]

A story of a man and the routine he maintains in order to feel relevant and useful. It's not a marathon or anything that will bring great notoriety, but it's what he does, and he does it with purpose and devotion. That is how I understand it, for it's similar to my own routine. Very well written, I followed with interest throughout.

[danny]

thank you very much

[Cherrie Palmer]

Great story, it unfolds with simple and honest emotion. You have showcased an everyday event and given it depth.
I loved it.

[danny]

wow thanks

[Einstein Noodle]

the ups and downs of one day can exhaust those such as you man on the bike ...even his happiness is sad tho ...as he hopes for reactions of strangers to placate his missing son's interest in ol' dad ... its a different world isn't it ... i use to call or write my grandparents regularly .. its the way i grew up .. and never failed to call me Ma and Da to keep up ... i have 4 children and they are not like that... one either Tweets twitters or some other such nonsense or you just don't hear from them :( i made up my mind to squash me pride and call them ... its so much better than nothing ;)
E.

[danny]

that's cool you seem to relate to this fiction was not expecting that

[Einstein Noodle]

and why not sir? ;) i'm old! :))))))))))))))))))

[danny]

no mate your not old just vintage a classic

[Einstein Noodle]

ahahahaha yeah right! ;) nice to meet you by the way... i subscribed to your stuff and look forward to reading more

[danny]

cheers mate