On the way home from lunch, about half way into our two hour hike home, Papa disappeared. The last time I saw him, he was talking to an old lady so I just let him do his thang, continued walking, and figured he'd catch up. We stopped at the bottom of an especially steep downhill stretch, and Papa didn't show up for five to ten minutes, but it felt like much more as we started to worry about him. Once our fear started to escalate, we were thinking, "great, papa's missing or he's hurt and it's all our fault. What are we doing letting the old man go last down a steep slope without waiting for him more often?"
Then, as we were all looking uphill, waiting anxiously for Papa, we heard a call come from the other direction. As we turned, what did we see but Papa, standing there looking dapper as ever with his walking stick dressed in his suit and tie with a big smile on his face. He had taken a shortcut and was actually waiting for US. He had to come back to find us, as he passed us while we were contemplating what could have possibly happened to him.
Papa proved that the mountains still have nuttin' on him.... Neither do us punk kids.
2 comments:
I was afraid that you were going to say that something awful happened to Papa. But he sounds like he could out-hike any of the best of us!
I didn't think any one could out hike you! I know that I have tried!
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