There are days when it’s clear to me Shimmer is a retired racer. On these days, he shows every year of his life, every aching bone and tired muscle any older athlete would have. These are the days where gravity seems heavier and going out for a walk seems like a supreme effort. We call these days Monday.
As we were walking to the park, we stopped to talk to the Russian gentleman who lives down the street. He was in his garage polishing a large silver tray. He was surrounded by silver dinnerware and began working on a fork from a chest of utensils.
“I don’t even know how much these are worth,” he said as a greeting to us. Shimmer and I have had odder things said to us, so we played along. It turned out he was polishing them for his granddaughter’s wedding. The silver was from his grandmother and this was the first time he had seen them since her death. Shimmer was beginning to drop–whether for a quick nap or the silver cleaning fumes, I’m not sure–and we said good-bye and left him to his gleaming memories.