The old man’s name was Johnson and he loved the game of chess. But his eyes
and face weren’t normal, kinda creepy I’d confess.
Johnson always had his game of chess set out to play. He’d move his pawn ahead one square, and then he’d look my way.
You never really knew if we were eyeing face to face. ‘Cuz Johnson’s eyes were
both askew. A vision to erase.
His left eye tilted out a bit. You’d say a might cockeyed. The right eye never
made a move. Some said, “Looked like it died.”
I moved my knight out from a pawn. I’d planned no strategy. And then I quizzed
him ‘bout his eyes. This time they stared through me.
Old Johnson hesitated, then he moved his knight out front. He said when he was
younger, he had tried a stupid stunt.
He didn’t bother telling me just what the heck he did. So, I moved my pawn and
figured Johnson kept things under lid.
But it didn’t take old Johnson long to warm up to a boy, who listened to his
stories, trying never to annoy.
I was prob’ly ten years old, first time I saw his face. My father told me, “This gentle man will stay here at our place.”
He said, “I’d like it if you’d keep an eye on this old man. He’s been
homeless since forever, living in a broke down van.
“Your job will be to keep the bunkhouse stocked with food and such.
Canned peaches and some tins of spam, he ain’t used to having much.”
So every night past supper I would listen to each tale, how he’d waited for the
enemy and fought ‘em tooth and nail.
He showed me how to play the game of chess and every rule. But most of all I
learned from him, “A loose mouth proves a fool.”
He taught me, “Always show respect. Be true to all your kin.” And how my folks
were kind enough to take an old man in.
One morning I woke early. Thought I’d check the bunkhouse out. And there lay
old man Johnson. He was dead. I had no doubt.
Most younger boys would be afraid to find death all alone. But me, I stood there
thinking. “Johnson’s found his way back home.”
