Never Too Old
written by: Jim Harrington
Sara stepped off the front porch into the newly fallen snow. The flannel jammies, winter coat, and ankle-high boots provided some protection against the white deluge falling from the sky. It didn’t matter that five inches had fallen with another five predicted. What mattered was she couldn’t find her dad, Henry.
She’d checked every room in the house—twice. She called the neighbors. They hadn’t seen him. She dispatched the twins to run around the block, hoping they’d catch up to wherever he was.
He’d been there that morning when the presents were opened, his mind somewhere else, though. This was the first Christmas since his wife Emily passed. He perked up when he opened the big present from Frank, Sara’s husband. It was a set of four paintball guns. Henry roared his approval and challenged everyone to a war. Frank grinned, happy to see Henry perk up. Sara looked at Frank with a “What the f___ were you thinking?” expression. Frank’s face responded with a “He’s old, not dead” glimmer.
In desperation, Sara had raced through the house to the backyard. She scanned the trees in the woods behind her home, peered quickly from side to side like a periscope, and yelled Henry’s name over and over with no results. She’d hoped she would find him and not have to call the police requesting a Silver Alert in this weather.
She turned to go back inside and felt something hit her back. She pivoted to see what had happened and spotted her father holding his present with two hands, the barrel crossing his chest, waist to shoulder, a gaping smile on his face. Still angry at him, but glad he was safe, she stared at Henry, pupils mere pin pricks, and said, “Frank. Get me my gun.”
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