the couple

I am most often found in the library when I am on campus and not in class. I am usually reading. I have often noticed an elderly couple who frequents the library.

The man waits patiently, seeking no extra conversation. His wife, being more inclined to speak to others, asks the librarian about which books her husband should next peruse. He wears his usual uniform consisting of flannel and Dickies. His tennis shoes, worn and dirty, have walked many a mile at this point in their career. She wears a simple navy jacket, aged and comfortable, and a pair of faded jeans. Her tennis shoes are also dirt-stained and passe. His glasses are thick; her hair is short.

He reads dilapidated books on various topics. She scans local and national newspapers for random bits of information, rising to speak to the assorted patrons of the library. They speak to each other in half sentences with a communication so familiar that it requires little more than a glance to convey an entire sentence. The connection they have with one another is as weathered as their complexions, yet it can be seen through their simple habits. Their connection can be heard through the minute inflections barely audible in their whispers.

Sitting a few feet from them, I feel as though I have somehow become a part of this antique love and connection. By witnessing something that has remained pure despite the unknown lives that have been led around and through it, I've learned some valuable truth. Giving word to that truth is something I am failing at right now. But, I know, it will form of its own accord at the precise moment it is needed. Until then, their easy way will remain in my mind. I will continue to strive for the same sort of connections in my life.