Somewhere in Los Angeles
Sometime in the Future
Mike Stoker leaned back in his old recliner and ran his fingers gently over the photographs in the old album. He really should replace it. The pages were falling apart and some of the photos were literally falling off the pages. But somehow, he just couldn't bring himself do it. Beth had compiled this photo album, starting the day she had accepted his proposal. There were baby photos and school photos in there; photos of her as a kid, of him (the rare class pictures when he was in one school long enough to have pictures taken) photos of their courtship and wedding; shots of the boys all throughout their childhood and growing up years; the grandchildren's photos; copies of birth announcements, report cards, concert ticket stubs, graduation announcements, job announcements, various shower invitations, wedding invitations housewarming invitations ... and obituary notices. The whole story of their lives captured, labeled and neatly detailed in Beth's precise, beautiful script and a few in his messy scrawl. Each photo told a story... the story depicted by the two words engraved on the cover: "Our Family."
He smiled sadly as he picked up the second album. It was set up very much the same as the first, and nearly as worn by time and loving perusal, but somehow, this one was harder for him to leaf through now. Indeed, he rarely opened it. Who would have ever thought he would be in this position? He really had never wanted this. And he looked around at the sheets covering the furniture. Stared for a moment at the bare walls. He knew what he was doing was for the best. Absolutely was the right thing. Felt it clear to his toes. But still...
He ran his hands over the cover of the second album. He had never wanted to be the last. Never wanted to be the keeper of the flame. He stared down at the intricately drawn LACoFD seal on the cover of the album. Remembered the day Beth had drawn it. How proud she had been of him, and of his career. How much they had loved their friends... his brother firefighters. God. he hated being old. Hated being alone. Hated it with every fiber of his being.
He was startled by the touch on his shoulder. "Sir? I put your bag in the cab. Are you ready?"
Mike looked up at the driver and nodded. "Yeah. Almost."
He placed the albums into his carry-on and zipped it. He sighed as he shouldered the bag. "Let's go."
The driver nodded respectfully and left him alone, heading outside.
Memories settled onto Mike, and the weight of them practically buckled his knees. He actually reached out and caught himself on the back of the sofa. He turned and stared at Beth's shrouded rocker for a long moment. He reached for the neatly folded matching sheet he had laid on its seat and covered his own recliner. The two old chairs now sat side-by-side, impossible to tell apart. He smiled a little. He squared his shoulders, walked out the door, shut and locked it. Mike headed for the cab. He didn't look back.
~The End~
A/N: The title is a nod to the song "Time Passages" by Al Stewart which was released in 1978. Songwriters: Eric Stewart, Wilfred Collins, Jim Falcone, Paul Nieser © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc. * The inspiration for this story was one I heard about a lady going to hospice and leaving behind her family photo albums because she was completely alone in the world. I don't know Mike's situation, where he's going, or what's happening to him, but he could not leave his memories behind.