Isabella Bonifacio-Sudnik Elderly Crouch

[Elderly Crouch]

Isabella Bonifacio-Sudnik

The afternoon sun cascades down the luminescent green hills that tumble steeply onto the road. Plaques dot the grass in rows, interrupting the greenery. The worn stones constitute a graveyard. A gray car sits idly at the crown of the most confident hill. A few lengths away, a man struck with years of a long and inevitably remorseful life span, squats with his head slumped. His rear glued to his ankles, his soles supporting him, the only thing keeping him from falling apart. The sunlight reflects off his balding scalp like aged champagne. Even in the warmth of late-day, he shrouds himself in thick clothes and a bulky coat. Alone, he is engulfed by a blizzard of sorrow. The clear blue sky, rolling green hills, and comforting breeze mean nothing. His grief radiates around him, it almost appears that an aura of deep loss swarms around him like yellow jackets to nectar. His sadness infects the joyful picturesque landscape. Maybe he lost his wife of fifty years, a romantic tragedy with an inevitable end. Maybe he lost a relative, maybe this person passed when paper maps were still in style, and today he felt the unsuppressed need to pay tribute to the grave. His motives are unknown, all that shows is the unconquered melancholy.