Name: Monty O’Sullivan
Hometown: Dublin, Ireland
Current Location: Wonderer
Family: Has three daughters and five grandchildren. His wife Milly died a couple years ago.
Education: Retired college professor.
Hobbies: Taking walks, building bird feeders, eating, and having adventures.
Variables in your life: Becoming one of the oldest men to travel the world.
Are you the puppet or the puppet-master of your life? I am sometimes both depending on the situation.
Monty sits, waiting for something exciting to happen. Something as small as a book falling from the shelf, dust that gathered in its pages over the years explodes from all sides. A book falling makes a thud on the ground, a different sound from the ones that Monty has been listening to for the last couple of hours. He was good at believing in magic and having even the smallest of happenings become something meaningful, a work of magic. Unlike other nights the magic was missing on this evening. Ever since Milly passed away and the kids had grown up and moved away, Monty was more alone than ever. He had no one to tell his stories to and he wanted so badly to talk. Being quiet for long amounts of time made Monty depressed and seemed to turn him into a somewhat grumpy old man. Which he was not. In fact Monty was one of the most compassionate men that lived in the town and everybody thought very fondly of him. Sometimes he would turn to the picture of his deceased wife on the wall and tell her a story. Hearing his voice surprised him since it had been so long since he heard it.
Weeks passed and Monty being the kind spirited and driven man that he was decided he needed to get out. He knew that making a journey like the one he was planning could end his life. But he knew its what Milly would have wanted him to do. He packed a sack full of mostly books, apples, and some clothes for the road. He grabbed his walking stick and made his way for the front door. As he was leaving behind his home, he waved goodbye, not knowing if he would ever see it again.