Sunny old man

We walked slowly to the bus stop, holding hands. Gently, but with our palms full. We'd left much too early on purpose. To enjoy the day even more. Thanks to that, we had a lot of time. Just for ourselves. I don't remember where or why we wanted to go. Probably for a walk. To Łazienki Park, I think. Or to the Old Town, or Powiśle. Or maybe somewhere else entirely. It didn't matter where now.

It was the very middle of a hot summer. August. A Sunday. A bright, sunny, sweltering day. The sky was blue, almost cloudless, slightly hazy with a barely perceptible shade of steel gray. The sun, almost at its zenith, warmed and blinded us joyfully. A light, warm breeze blew. Evenly, without gusts, just right. So that we didn't feel the stifling, unbearable heat, but a wonderful, delightful warmth permeating our entire bodies. The people around us, the people we passed, and those walking alongside us, all seemed happy and smiling. High above our heads, as if possessed by mad loops, swifts chased each other, shrieking shrilly, shrilly, and piercing. Even the buildings, normally gray, dirty, and shabby, seemed to brighten and become more beautiful. Everything around us was sunny, happy, and joyful. And most of all, we ourselves.

Jola, in her flowing white summer dress with large, bright red poppies, looked exquisite, charming, and delightful. And I, immensely happy, just like a little child receiving the most desired and dreamed-of gift in the whole world, looked into her large, blue, sparkling eyes and saw the same joy, the same happiness, the same infatuation, the same enchantment. We understood each other without words. Just a look, a smile, a handshake, a gesture, or even a murmured "mhmm," were enough. We felt and experienced everything together. We were one. In thought, feeling, and spirit. And we reveled in the wonderful closeness and the delicate scent of our bodies warmed by the sun. A harbinger of future delights.

People walking in the opposite direction looked at us, smiling gently, and didn't look away when we boldly looked them straight in the eye. And through those glances, completely without restraint, we generously shared our joy and happiness with them. And we saw that they accepted it. From us. We walked forward. Together. Radiant. In love. Enchanted by each other and the world.

In the distance ahead of us, I noticed an elegant, slim, elderly gentleman. He walked erect, strolling slowly, with small, soft steps. In the same direction as us. Probably also to the bus stop. He was dressed in a light, well-tailored, summer linen suit, tight-fitting and evenly pressed. On his head was a small, cylindrical, very flat, linen hat with a round, small brim. Just like in old photographs from the 1920s. Everything was a straw color. Even from a distance, the joy inherent in this figure was clear. In his confident, rhythmic steps. In the gentle nodding of his head from side to side in rhythm. In the energetic, sweeping, and imaginative swinging of his thin, varnished bamboo cane. His entire figure simply radiated. I looked at Jola, and we smiled at each other. I realized she, too, had noticed him earlier. Probably at the same moment I did. Soon we overtook the "sunny old man," and after a dozen or so steps, I couldn't resist and glanced back. Smiling serenely, he stared at the sidewalk a few paces ahead, as if oblivious to the world around him, deeply immersed in his own clearly joyful thoughts.

The green light at the pedestrian crossing began to flicker. We quickened our pace and ran across. And I was delighted to see Jola's jiggling breasts, her undulating hips, her slender legs, her narrow waist, her swaying arms, her slender hands. Delighted. And she knew very well that I was looking at her. And what I was looking at.

We slowly reached the bus stop, stopped just before the shelter, and looked back. The "sunny old man" had just stopped across the street at the pedestrian crossing to wait for the next green light. After a moment, perhaps for the first time, he looked straight ahead. In our direction. And suddenly, an even brighter smile lit up his face. He straightened even more, and his bamboo cane began to spin little figure eights just above the ground.

Then, with surprise, we noticed that everyone at the bus stop was looking at us, smiling serenely. We were both taken aback by this. A bit embarrassed, we looked at each other intently. Everything was fine. No leaves on our heads or bird poop on our clothes. We stood there, confused, in the local spotlight. People across the street were also smiling, looking our way. All those eyes were on us. And we had no idea why.

At the pedestrian crossing, the light turned green again, and the "sunny old man" bowed his head again and, along with the others, moved forward. Everyone overtook him, smiling warmly and cordially as they passed us. Finally, he, too, seemed particularly cheerful, approached us and, smiling broadly, but with his head lowered and his gaze still fixed, pointed with his bamboo cane to something above our heads, behind us. We glanced around cautiously, unsure of what we would see.

He sat motionless, as close as possible, on the very edge of the shelter roof, almost within arm's reach. A stork. With his large red beak, he aimed straight at us, staring persistently and intrusively. Almost impudently. Around the center of his beak, a small feather wreath was glued. The white feathers on his belly were slightly stained. He stared without the slightest movement. For a long time. Hypnotically, even. Finally, utterly embarrassed and confused, unable to hold his gaze, we turned away.

After a moment, a sudden, moderate breeze fluttered our dresses and momentarily glued our shirts to our bodies. We looked up at the roof of the shelter. The stork was gone.

"It's flown away," said a "sunny old man" standing nearby, watching us. He smiled, then turned, bowed his head, and, energetically waving his bamboo cane, continued forward. On his way.

A few weeks later, it turned out that Jola had a new life within her.