A white haired, seasoned citizen rests on her walker outside the neighborhood Denny’s restaurant, nestled in the corner of our local strip mall. She says goodbye to her friends after brunch and slowly begins her walk across the parking lot, picking up her walker for each step moving only inches at a time, to finally reach her oversized, aged car. She takes her time. Nothing waits for her at home.
D. Normand, C. 2010
3 comments:
What a descriptive picture you have created. I can literally see her walking across my parking lot. You have a very clear perspective.
Have a great day!
You have tested it and writing form your personal experience or you find some information online?
Hi Davie...been reading here for a while this morning. This little blog of yours grabbed my heart - that last sentence. I've often wondered what the elderly feel, those who live alone, and even those who don't, when they know their life is nearly wound down... like that little lady, slowly making her way...are they glad to be slowed down, knowing so many of their friends and family are gone and they have no one to keep up with anymore, anyway. Is that slowing down something they readily accept...I guess they have no choice. Your blog about her reminded me of a poem I wrote for my Dad last month....Slips Away...
His arm reaches out,
folds me to his chest,
"Good morning, Sweetheart" he says,
"so nice to see you again."
as if years had gone by
since last time we hugged,
(or maybe his night
took too long to see day)
and he gives me a squeeze
trying hard to hold tight
but his arm slips away...
then I watch as he hobbles
down the hall to his room,
each thump of his cane
growing faint past his door,
while I wish I had treasured
the strength of his hug
when still I was small,
when I thought there would
always be more...
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