Every weekend, Old Man Henry would come shuffling to the park, leaning on his cane, settling down on the red wooden bench. Every weekend he’d snap at the kids playing nearby.
The ball almost hit me!
Can’t you see an old man sitting here?
You’ll make me deaf with all your shouting!
Nothing seemed to placate him and finally the mothers just cautioned their children to stay far away from him as possible.
One weekend, a little girl came and sat by him on the bench. Henry glared down at her. She simply looked up and smiled shyly at him.
“Where are those birds flying off to?” she pointed to the sky.
“Err, they’re migrating South,” he said hesitantly, almost surprised at such a question.
“Go on and play!” he quickly continued.
She shook her head, “The doctor said I can’t, because of the medicine.”
Henry’s eyes softened and from that day on, little Gwen and Henry would meet every weekend and chat.
Old Man Henry soon forgot to grumble at the other kids nearby.