Old Folks at Play–Response to Monday Morning Writing Prompt

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Old Folks at Play

“It’s been a while,” he said.

“Yep.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Don’t make me stop to think about it; I’ll find a reason not to.” I sat on the huge boulder along side the river and unlaced my tennis shoes. The rock was cold and hard, reminding me I was no longer young. My butt wouldn’t tolerate more than a couple of minutes of this.

“Remember when we used to sit here for hours, Chuck. Reading or dozing while we waited for the trout to bite?”

“Never did catch anything worth eating. C’mon, let’s do it.”

He reached for my hand, snuggled it securely in his calloused grip. Warmth and a sense of confidence settled in my old bones.

This is crazy. My rational self tossed out images: broken bones, snagged fish hooks, arthritic pain.

The rocks leading to the shore were rough. Grass and fox tails pricked my bare skin. Chuck tightened his grasp and I guessed he was toying with second thoughts too.

The first step into the Truckee startled  and I shrieked. Snow melt from the Sierra rushed over my feet then up the calves of my legs. The smooth stones soon gave way to muck that squished between my toes. A fish slithered against my ankles, its scales tickling my bare skin. I struggled to keep my footing.

Chuck turned to me and slipped his arms around my waist. I remembered how it used to be and then he pulled me to himself and blew softly into my ear.

“You’re not really thinking of…”

His mouth closed over mine to silence my doubts.

Two hours later, I helped him fold the blanket we’d spread out on the river bank. In my memory, I could still feel the crunching leaves beneath my body and the weight of my husband on top of me. Those little aches and pains that had been our constant companions for a good part of the last decade remained forgotten.

“You’re gorgeous, Agnes,” Chuck whispered.

I felt my pulse bounding in my head and caressed Chuck’s stubbly cheek. “Don’t let anyone tell us we’re too old, sweet stuff.”

That was when I noticed a gaggle of teenage boys, watching from a clump of bushes.

My response to the prompt for MMWP to write a poem or flash fiction that included texture. Check out other submissions at: https://liv2write2day.wordpress.com/2011/05/15/monday-morning-writing-prompt-texture/