When I was young

 

When someone refers to me as “old person” I am offended.

I look awesome for someone who is called “Old Person”.  Whenever I see myself in the mirror, I say “Damn, girl. You still look like you are 40.” Why not? I don’t have glasses on when I look in that mirror, and fuzziness wipes out the wrinkles.

My hair has a strip of white at the roots, but Jennifer at JC Hair Studio has magic hands. My own hands look old, I’ll give you that.  When my daughter and her two daughters placed their hands in a circle around mine, you can see where my hands started out and where there are now.

I am now 1/2 inch shorter. That plus one sweet gr-daughter is about 5 inches taller than I am, heightens the effect.

Over the years, I have avoided telling my weight: Traumatic  ridicule from my brothers and my father.  (I wrote a letter to my mother, asking for her help. She did nothing.)

Telling my age no longer fits in that list.  So I proclaim:  I am on Medicare, UnitedHealthcare, and just had my 72 birthday.

Now I ask you to view my daughter and myself.  It was taken Summer of 2021. Erin is 48 now, born in 1975.

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Age comes and there is no stopping it. I will take off my glasses.

                                                       
 

 

Snow is a Thief

 

 

 deciduous leaves

 

“Today is a good day!” 

That phrase escaped Helen’s lips as a sigh.  Helen could remember what happened all that day:  breakfast, how good the oatmeal tasted;   and, even the joke her nurse Alice made about Helen’s thick curly white hair.

“Why, you have more hair on your head than I had when I was only twenty!”  They both had laughed.  It was true; even at the age of eighty, Helen had fluffy thick hair that looked like a cloud, a mound of snow.

‘It’s my birthday!  Today!’  The thought occurred to Helen as she moved to the window.  ‘My daughter Maude is coming in a while and she will bring my favorite cake.’  Helen even remembered the phone call she had received from Maude just minutes ago.  ‘It’s my birthday!’

Alice walked to Helen’s side and took her elbow.  “Would you like to sit on the deck, Helen?  It’s a rare lovely day, and Lord knows, we won’t have many more of those when winter moves in on us!”

“Oh, Alice!  I would love that.  Maude will be here shortly, and I want her to see me sitting outside.  To see me enjoying the last leaves.” Helen’s brown eyes sparkled at the thought of Maude coming and finding that today Helen remembered her oldest child.

Alice escorted Helen to the outdoor chairs.  Helen was still vigorous, strong, and often argued with Alice about all the ‘fussing over me—I am not a child, you know…’  Alice spread a pale pink lap quilt over Helen, and told her that Maude would love to see this quilt being used.

The woods before her were filled with leaf-covered paths.  The last golden leafs reminded her of a “yellow brick road” from that movie.  ‘What was it?  Oh, the “Wizard of Oz”…’  Her eyes followed the paths and the bare branches arched over the yellow leaf paths.

Helen used to gather up those leaves into bouquets and give them to her mother, “A last bouquet ‘fore the snows, Mama!”

An idea sparked in her tired brain, and she acted on it.  “A bouquet!  That’s what I’ll have when Maude comes!  She will be so surprised!” 

Her feet moved down the steps and onto the paths, the pale pink quilt slipping to the deck. 

Helen was sure she knew this path, from somewhere.  ‘Oh, yes!  This is the path I always take when I walk.  Oh, of course.  Mama wants me to get some flowers for the table at dinner.’ 

Helen walked forward into the fog of the days behind her, into the fog coming over her mind.

Hands filled with leaves, Helen sat down on an old fallen log and looked around her.  She was so tired.  Letting herself slide down the side of the log, Helen curled up against it, and laid her head onto the rough bark. ‘I’ll rest here for just a moment.  Mama will be cross if I’m late.’

Snow started falling slowly at first and then built up speed.  Soon the paths, branches, fallen trees, and an old woman with fluffy white hair were covered in a layer that made the world white.

The voices calling ‘Helen!’  went unanswered.  As the day moved into night and the snow grew from a few inches to a solid foot, the voices turned to sobs.

On the table in Helen’s room sat a pink birthday cake.  Maude knew that Helen like the color pink.

Alzheimer's is a terrible thief.

from Bing.com

 

 P.S..  This story is based on a true event.  My father's cousin developed Alzheimer's in her later years, and left her caretaker's house in Michigan. She was found when the snows melted, not too far from her house. 

 

We will be visiting our son and family. They are in Illinois and we are in California.  So far away! But I will be putting up previous posts from the early years.  Please, please leave comments. May 1 - 8.