“Mr. Johnson… Mr. Johnson,” I hollered down the cold cobble street of Manchester. He slowly turned around with a puzzled look on his face. “You forgot your key in your door, Mr. Johnson,” “Oh dear, I did?” he mumbled as he patted his pockets in search for his missing key. “Thank you darling. I don’t know where I would be without you,” he said with a kind grin. I handed him his key and he was off.

Mr. Johnson is a warn down rickety old man with the sweetest eyes. He lives opposite me and every morning he goes to town for “tea and a good book” he says, so every morning I wake up just a few minutes early to watch him leave. He often forgets his key in the door or an umbrella when it rains, so I run down the street hollering “Mr. Johnson” more mornings than not. But believe me it is no trouble because he always pays me back with a sincere thank you and smile.

It’s so refreshing to see a man like Mr. Johnson, old but still kind despite his years. I saw an old woman knitting on the bus last Tuesday and when she caught my eye I simply smiled. She returned my smile with a  disgusted look and snarled “what are you smiling about when people are dying around you everyday.” “Oh, um… sorry,” I mumbled as I went back to reading my book. But people like her have never stopped me from smiling at strangers because though you get quite a few disgusted or confused looks, every once in awhile you’ll get a smile back and all of it was worth while.

Mr. Johnson is a man who smiles back. But what I love about his smile is that though he’s probably been to war and has seen awful things beyond imagination, his smile is still so warm and sincere. Though he could have become bitter with age, instead he sweetened like a fine wine.

His eyes are so kind. Crystal blue with speaks of gold. I believe he must of been a real charmer when he was young. Girls must have thrown themselves at him but he would never use them, he would treat them with the utmost respect. I bet he was a great dancer and funny too. I would have loved to have known him when he was young, but I’m already privileged enough to know him now. Mr. Johnson.