The Old Man

     Please note that this was for an English project I had to turn in for a grade and it had like, conflict criteria so that's why it may seem kind of funky. Also I totally would have made it gay af but, once again, for a graadeeeee so yeah. <3 <3 <3

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The old man sat alone in the motel room. He put his head in his hands and wept for all the things he once had that were now lost to him. The old man was completely alone now. But, the memory of all the people he helped in his life kept him going, for this old man was once a great hero. The old man stood up and straightened his back. He was going somewhere. Somewhere far away.
   The old man walked out of the run-down motel room, not once glancing back at its peeling paint and flickering open sign. He opened the trunk of his old car and began to dig around through the miscellaneous old junk he had hoarded in there over the course of his life. All of this old junk had once been useful to him and he smiled at the memories and continued to dig through it all. Finally he'd found what he was looking for; an old tattered and torn coat that had once belonged to his best friend, and an old necklace his brother had given him years and years ago. He smiled warmly as he gently set the items in the passenger seat of his ancient car. He was going to put them back where they belonged. But before he could do that, he would have to remember where to take them. He thought long and hard about where he would have to go. It had been such along time since he had thought about his old friends. He figured he would remember as he went.
     As the old man drove, he remembered little bits and pieces from his youth. His memory now was not nearly as good as it had once been, but there are just some things you can't forget. He grinned fondly as he remembered his baby brother's first steps, they were towards him. He remembered the first time his brother had his heart broken and how they snuck into their father's beer cooler and got a couple. The old man smiled a watery smile and just kept driving.
     A week of driving around the country had passed and the old man still couldn't remember where his brother and his friend were. He could feel it right on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn't place it. Alabama? Arkansas? Or was it the town that started with A? Oh well He thought, I'll remember soon enough.
   By now, the old man couldn't even remember what state he was in right now. So he pulled over at little family owned diner somewhere probably around Wyoming. He walked in and the sound of the door bell struck another memory for him. He and his brother visited so many diners in their day. The old man shook the memory off of himself and took a seat up at the counter. "What'll it be?", the young waitress asked. "Black coffee and your finest slice of pie, please.", the old man replied. Oh how he loved pie. At this age, he must have tried a slice of pie from nearly every diner in America. He chuckled. His brother always teased him over his great (and probably unhealthy) love for pie. To which the old man would have replied something snarky and then they would both laugh. After he ate, he pulled out his old road map and plotted out where he would drive to next.
     After the second week of driving, the old man knew exactly where he must go. He glanced at the worn out relics seated shotgun to him and remembered once more some of the good times he had; even here in this very car.
   The closer he got to his destination, the more memories flooded back to him. Some good, some bad, but important all the same. The memories made him realize how much he missed his family and how excited he was to talk to them again. He remembered the day his brother went off to college, and he remembered the day he first met his best friend and how first impressions aren't everything. He especially remembered all the laughs they all had and how they always had each other's backs no matter what. Fond memories continued to flow through the old man all the way up until he'd reach the destination. He smiled solumly as he grabbed the things he brought and walked up a narrow, overgrown trail leading up to a faded away house up on the hill. He approached the old place and put a hand up to the wall and little bit of paint came off. He sighed and walked around the back of the house and there they were. The old man smiled and walked over to the two rickety old wooden crosses he'd put on top of their graves with care all those long years ago. It really hadn't seemed like that long to the old man, but I guess time passes slower when everyone you love is gone. He carefully set the coat and necklace down and sat on the ground beside them, his joints all groaning as he did. He sat looking on into the dense trees and whispered, "I miss you guys.." After a few minutes of silence and thought, a light wind rustled amongst the calm trees branches and the old man could have sworn he felt hands on his shoulders. He smiled again and he decided it was time to go. He stood up and dusted himself off as he started down the hill again. The old man was no longer sad for what he had lost all those years ago because he knew his family was happy.