“Come here,” Ruth demands as she thump, thump, thumps on her chair with her fist. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…”
I go to her. Her glare transforms my smile into a frown.
One day she was told by her son and daughter-in-law that she was going for a ride. The ride ended up at this nursing home where they left her. Embalmed in anger, she bites out a hello to me. Conversation polite or otherwise fails. I walk away.
“Come’ere. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.”
* * *
I turn the corner and am confronted by a long corridor lined with old people in wheelchairs. They sit, as if posing.
“Hey, Roger, your watch has stopped.” I startle the ashen figure.
“Yep, you’re right.”
“Is it broken?”
“Nope.”
“Why don’t you wind it?”
“Why should I?”
* * *
Ethel is a frail lady of 84 from western Maryland. We both labor at idle talk. With great effort, she dislodges words from her mouth. “I didn’t used to be this way,” she stutters.
“Do you know my brother?” she asks.
“What’s his name?”
“Bobby. He’s a dentist. A good one. He learned from practicing on me. Ha ha…heeheehee.” Her eyes light up and sparkle. I laugh with her.
The laugh dies down to a forgetful smile as she tries to remember what was so funny.
She shrugs and resumes her pose.
* * *
“That you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus. Bless me Lord…”
I pop my head in. “Hi!”
“Hello. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus…” Her intoning never stops, even while I speak.
“How’s everything today?” I ask.
“Oh, just fine. Be with me, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus. Are you Christian?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’m ready, I tell you. I’m ready to go. Thank you, Jesus. I’m waiting here, and I’m looking forward to meeting the Lord. I feel sorry for those who can’t say that. I have nothing to fear, have I. I’ve got the Lord. Bless me, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus. Are you here with those other people?”
“No.”
“That’s nice. They’re nice people. Are they your sisters? Bless me, sweet Jesus.”
“No. Have you been here a long time?” I ask.
“Thank you, Jesus. Thank you…uh…Bless me, Lord. Be with me…what did you say? Thank you, Jesus.”
“Have you been here a long time?”
“Thank you, Jesus. Praise the Lord. Thank you, sweet Jesus. Bless me…”
* * *
I enter a white room. Slouched deep into a chair, next to a window, sits one fading lady. Her eyes glisten with life. One long white scarf wraps around her.
I enter her gaze and sit. “So, how are you today?” I ask.
She remains still. Her eyes bring me into focus.
“I’m just walking around and saying hello to everyone,” I continue.
She blinks.
“Are you tired?” I ask.
Her head sinks to one side. Her eyes close. Saliva oozes from the corner of her mouth to her scarf.
A setting sun renders her incandescent.
* * *
Old people, yellowed snapshots, mostly forgotten.