Just a Man

 

We left church after dark

On a cool October evening

We made our way down the concrete steps

Toward the step-side Chevy

Father was exceedingly proud of it

Blood red glinting in the moonlight

There was an older gentleman

Gaunt and grey and stooped

I could tell that he needed help

He was uncertain on the steep stairs

Searching furtively for the next one

Shaking arms on the railing

“Help him,” I implored my father

He looked angrily into my eyes

Then he walked on

He offered the elder no aid

I had never been more disappointed

My father knowingly refused to help

He continued to the truck uncaring

The old man likely never crosses his mind

I recall that event often

That evening I learned an important lesson

I had put too much faith in my father

He was just a man