The Most Interesting Man
By J.M.R
I once met a man who was the most interesting man in the world.
He was just a regular man, in his seventies, who lived in one town for all his life.
You’re wondering why I think this man is interesting.
He isn’t rich or works for the FBI. He’s just a man full of memories that he tells to every generation he can tell.
He has a laugh that makes heads turn. He wouldn’t care. He will laugh at the less funny things so he can laugh. Of course he doesn’t laugh about someone dying, oh no, he’s a kind hearted man and understands death.
His wife died of cancer and was a very sad man for a while. It’s hard to believe this man who loves to live would want to die.
How he got out of his depressed state, as he said himself, was just a simple scoop of strawberry chocolate swirl from the local ice cream shop.
It was his wife’s favorite.
He said, “If this ice cream can stay forever even after my wife’s death, I can too.”
I once met a man who was the most interesting man in the world.
His wrinkles were maps of his journeys in life.
It showed of sadness and grieving times, but it also showed of happiness and joy.
His eyes were like portals into his thoughts though now you can’t see them since they are thin string. Even he can’t see well out of them.
His hair thin and white was still soft as cotton.
The man would bare a wooden cane his son bought him for his sixty-ninth birthday.
He had leather loafers that he had since the seventies. They weren’t ragged and old, but crisp and clean as if bought last week.
I once met the most interesting man in the world who I won’t regret meeting.
