Growing Old is Hell
she says it just like
that as we visit
on her birthday
her 92nd
her blatant complaint
rather surprises me
unlike her
but I have to agree
and nod and smile
she manages a laugh
lightening the moment
for both of us
“just lying here” she continues
her knees are drawn
up by her chest
hips in a diaper discreetly covered by a purple
and white Afghan atop an adjustable bed
I nod again.
she laughs
again
“i
just lie here”
her body looks frailer
than on our last visit
we both notice
I don’t know her
well
her son and I married just three years ago
so small talk is strained
“my father died in a nursing home”
she offers
“and your mother”?
“she died in her sleep”
“do you have brothers or sisters?”
she looks confused so I simplify
“do you have sisters?”
“no”
“any brothers?” hesitation
“i think i
had a brother
a long
time
ago”
I set her birthday
card down
as I spot a picture of her
and her husband
taken a lifetime before
leaning against a far wall
out of her view
“would you like me to
move
this picture over here
where you can see it?
“yes”
I move a Kleenex box
prop
the picture
in front of a clock
and sit down
beside her
plastic-protected bed
“he’s very
handsome
and look at you a beauty!
how did you two meet?”
more hesitation
“i don’t
remember”
“do you remember
how long our drive is to
come
and see you?
“an hour and a half”
“you remember!” we laugh together
a small victory
climbed from a deep ravine
as I stand for us to
leave
my knees complain
I’m no spring thing myself
we can’t give her a
hug
because
of the Corona
does she understand?
we’re lucky
we can visit her
at all
we leave her as
she was
when we came in
lying there
sorry to be walking away
sorry to be leaving her
sorry to see her
still
just lying
there
unable to escape
the valley slowly
calling her name
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