An old man in his eighties slowly pushed himself up from his recliner one quiet afternoon and began putting on his coat. It took him a moment — buttons don’t cooperate the way they used to — but he was clearly determined. His wife, who had been rocking peacefully across the room, squinted at him over her glasses.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“I’m going to the doctor,” he replied, sounding unusually confident.
That immediately caught her attention. “Why?” she asked. “Are you sick?”
“No,” he said, straightening his coat proudly. “I’m going to get me some of those new V pills everyone keeps talking about.”
His wife didn’t respond right away. Instead, she slowly stood up from her rocker, reached for her sweater, and began putting it on with surprising energy. The old man paused mid-button and stared at her.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
She smiled sweetly. “I’m going to the doctor too.”
Now he looked confused. “Why?” he asked. “You’re not sick either.”
She finished pulling on her sweater, grabbed her purse, and said calmly,
“Well, if you’re planning to start using something that’s been retired for years, I’m going to need the doctor to fix what I have to deal with afterward.”
He blinked. “Fix what?”
She leaned in just enough to make her point land and said,
“If you’re about to start acting like you’re forty again, I’m going to need stronger knees, better hips, and possibly a helmet.”
The old man stood there in silence. Then he slowly unbuttoned his coat, hung it back up, and shuffled toward his recliner.
As he sat down, he muttered, “Maybe I’ll just ask the doctor for vitamins.”
Without looking up, his wife smiled and said, “Good idea. And maybe something for your imagination.”
