The Oldest Person You Know
..., my grandfather crown's himself with a hat and seals his backcombed hair. His white bread is always well kept and matches with his starchy, white clothes. His fingers, though are now hard and skinny, seem to me the long pointed finger of a musician. Wherever he goes, accompanied or alone his trusty walking stick is there with him. Sometimes, I get the impression that he is a bit miserly by when it comes to spend on his grand children he cares for nothing and spends like a baby swallow trying its first flight. May God bless him with health and life. With wrinkles on his dark, pale face, loose skin, eyes like emeralds but no sparkle in it, yet gentle, grizzly hair, fine lines, embedded on his face like the markings on the bark of a tree, my grand father is the oldest person I have ever known. In his mid eighties, the only place I have seen him after his retirement is in his warm, sunny room with heavy curtains and his door-sized windows, falling majestically like the Niagara fall. Where he spends his endless hours. Keeping a check on happenings around him. Like a king is crowned with his crown...