Monday, 13 March 2006
The summer sun slipped behind the tall brown fence, taking away its warmth. The old lady looked off into the distance, wondering as she did every day at this time. Would the sun rise for her again tomorrow? If it did, what would it bring? More waiting? Waiting for someone to get her out of bed. Waiting to have done what she always did for herself. Waiting to eat. And begging. Begging drove her crazy. How had life come to this? Begging for a tissue to wipe her nose. Begging for a bit more sugar in her coffee. And begging to go outside, to one of her children’s homes. To hear the little ones scream with laughter, to watch the teenagers, shyly put their arms around each other.
She remembered her own first love and warmth flowed through her ancient, veins. Had it been that long? It seemed like yesterday. Her wedding, then the children coming, and growing up, the grandchildren, then the great grandchildren. They floated across her lifetime bringing her back to her wheelchair, a cup of coffee, a bowl of cookies and a dish of fresh, ripe raspberries. Treats she’d never get in the nursing home.
Soon she’d have them eaten, and it would be time to return to the begging and waiting. But she felt better now. The outing to her daughter’s home had rekindled her dreams. Maybe tomorrow, the sun wouldn't rise for her and she’d wake up in that promised land far beyond the clouds.
Posted by Storyteller at 3:54 pm