The Sun Always Sets

By Jesse Sykes

Neil Collins put the last piece of a puzzle he had been working on for the last ten years, or the time he had spent at Quiet Oaks Rest Home, down upon the table where he sat and then smiled. It was a simple, humble smile, with no pretense attached. He was satisfied. He looked around him feeling the warm crisp wind press against his old face, and he felt a warmth in his belly. His clothes fit loosely and life was a big show which he had played a part in, was done, and then got to watch whenever he had the leisure. This was the first time he actually looked at the puzzle, now completed. Before he had finished the puzzle he only cared about finishing it. He only faintly recognized that he was putting together a picture of an old ruin somewhere in the world made by a people he didn’t know in a time he had not seen. It is a beautiful ruin, he thought. Somewhere you felt you had lived, but knew you had not, and yet had tastes and smells and feelings which were aboriginal to the place. The earth, you knew how it felt, cool in your hands as you reached in and grasped a green, brown clump of it, and you felt a nearness to it and let it fall between your fingers slowly; the air, you knew the heavy smell, the green life of the plants had impregnated the air and filled your nostrils and lungs with excitement and awe, and you wanted to breath more but coughed and strained yourself to tears trying; and, Oh, the taste, all was taste, you tasted that place through your skin, from yours toes to the top of your head. The old man smiled again and was glad to be able to enjoy that place now. The child in him was dead, so there was nothing in him to scoff at the experience and rob him of its joy.

"Time to come inside Mr. Collins," the nurse said.

She reached for his chair to help him up, but he raised his hand kindly, indicating that he would stay a moment more and enjoy the sunset.

"The sun is always setting," he thought, "no matter where you are."

He folded his hands and watched the shadows grow longer. He felt the sudden coolness that sets in when the sun goes on its way, and it made him feel lonely.

"A man should never have to feel lonely," he thought. "It is a wretched feeling that comes only when I am not thinking and empty, when all my life seems to vanish like a practical joke or a magic trick." He felt cheated. He searched frantically through his many jumbled memories for a place, a moment, when he was not lonely, when he was full inside, so he could sleep easy that night. He came to his wife, when she was young and beautiful and he was young and handsome. He thought about her smooth warm skin that seemed to be a part of his when they were close. He remembered the quiet sound of her heart beat and the care in her eyes, the wave of her hair and how it felt when she was on top of him and her hair fell on his face, while they both laughed in love. He smiled again and sighed, for he was tired. He was glad he had loved her so much, as much as he could. He knew that she was better than him and that giving himself to her was the best thing he had ever done. But now that was over; she had passed on and the nurse would soon be back to take him inside for the night. The old man stopped thinking for a moment and fixed his eyes directly on the table in front of him. He could barely make out the picture of the ruin, though he strained to see it. But he did not care that he could not see it. A moment later he heard the sound of the nurse opening the patio door to bring him in.

"Mr. Collins it is. . ."

"Time," he said.

He got up out of his chair before she could help him out of it and stood a moment and looked around him. He sighed again and smiled. Then he followed the nurse inside and left the finished puzzle of the old ruin on the table behind him. That night he dreamt of the beach and the sound of the waves pulling at the sand on the sea shore early in the morning before the sun rose up behind him and tickled the back of his neck with warmth. He loved the beach because he felt that his wife was always there in the wind, in the smell of the salt air, in the peace and power of the waves roaring in front of him. She loved the ocean and he never went there without her. He knew that she would be coming down the shore toward him, so he waited with anticipation. Then he saw her just as he expected and waved to her, and she waved to him, and he was filled with joy and got up to meet her. The sun rose just as he knew it would. But he did not regard it.