Mathias’ Journey

    The old man sat in his chair, watching the twenty-four news channel, trying to hear the latest on the elections in Russia. His sons and daughters, as well as their spouses, sat on the couches of his living room. They talked over, under, and around each other, creating a web of sound that was impossible to follow. He reached for the remote and turned up the volume. If the TV was loud enough, then perhaps he could at least pick it out from the myriad of sounds coming from everybody.
    One of his sons got up from the couch and leaned in towards him. He said something, but the old man couldn’t hear. He leaned forward in his chair and turned up the volume on his hearing aid, but that just amplified the noise around him. “What?” he finally said, seeing that his son was getting frustrated at his lack of response.
    His son grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. Everybody stopped talking and the old man heard his son say something about dinner. “Yea, let’s go eat.” He lowered the footrest on his chair and slowly stood up. His legs ached as he hobbled towards the kitchen.
    His wife was still in there peeling potatoes.
    When he turned around, he saw his son following him; his head listed to the side, and he looked confused. The old man felt embarrassed and tired. He didn’t want to go sit back down, having gotten up and made a fool of himself, so he turned towards the liquor cabinet and said, “Let’s have a drink.”
    He took out a bottle of brandy and a pair of shot glasses, filling each one only half-way. No use in drinking too much. The longer he could go without having to make a trip to the store, the better. He toasted with his son then made his way back to his chair.
    The old man looked out the window where his grandchildren were all playing a game of football. He smiled and closed his eyes.
    When he opened them, he was in his own backyard with many of his long-dead friends. They were playing their own game of football at the far end of the field. He watched for a moment, and when they waved him over, he took a step forward. His legs didn’t feel sore, and he could bend his left knee for the first time in many years. He took another step, then another, and before he knew it, he was running.
    The wind rushed through his thick hair that bounced with each step that he took. When he reached his friends, he felt the exhilaration of catching his breath and the pounding of a strong heart against his chest. They began playing, and he scored the final winning points in the waning moments of the game; but this wasn’t what he wanted. 
   He thanked his friends as they piled into the couple cars parked out front and waved as they drove away. As they disappeared on the horizon, he walked back into the yard. 
   There, he looked up into the sky and watched the white, puffy clouds stream across sky and there in that moment, he felt like somebody was calling him. He could hear his name broadcast off in the distance. From up above he heard it again and started running then jumped up into the air where he took off, flying towards the heavens.
    The old man opened his eyes and was back in his chair with one of his daughters standing over him. His hearing aid took a moment to adjust but he heard her say, “Dad, dinner’s ready. You ready to join us in the kitchen?”
    The old man looked around at his children and grandchildren gathered in the living room, his wife holding one of their infant granddaughters. “Yea. That sounds good.”