There's is but sickness
all around me, ringing on the telephone and talking before me, on and on as I pretend to pay attention and care. It grows, it's hopeless and pathetic and does nothing but remind me that I am heading that way.
Off and away early this morning to help some folks a few miles up the road - I needed to lift some batteries up onto the roof of the house and connect them to their solar array. They're both too old now to lift batteries themselves, and that rickety ladder that seemed like such a good idea when they built the house thirty years ago is now a deathtrap. So I go over to lift their batteries, patiently waiting as they explain to me how its done, all the while waiting for them to go get a screwdriver or a piece of rope or something else they've forgotten, so I can just lift everything up to the roof before they get back. They never leave.
Time is suspended for the old and decrepid. They take hours to move a chair or spread some jam, staring down at the toast in front of them and moving their arm from the jar to the toast in what seems like years, and then doing it again. And again.
So the batteries are on the roof and they tighten down all the nuts in slow motion and I'm drinking tea and looking for an excuse to excuse myself. And they're talking about how much longer they can live where they are, on top of a mountain and off the grid, and how hard it is going to be to adjust to an old folks home. And then they offer me another piece of toast and insist on spreading the jam for me.
I make my getaway and go home and cut a basket of basil to take to Hot Springs - a friend has an Inn and is sponsoring a cooking class this weekend. I know the folks teaching the class, only the wife has been sick for a few years, and keeps getting worse instead of better and I have to pretend like I care whenever I see them.
I try to think of positive things to say but hear myself sounding phony so say nothing and she doesn't seem to care or notice, so intent is she is reciting her long list of ailments and woes. At least I'm off the hook. Or so it seems. Gradually the room fills up with people, so I start to feel like I have to say something, to at least not look stupid, so I again begin my optomistic banalities.
All I'm thinking during both these ordeals is that I want to get out of there. Somewhere in the back of my mind is the thought that this too could be me, and someday probably will, but then I start to think about something else and it's a little while before it again occurs to me that this too could be me, and someday probably will.
And how was your day?
Off and away early this morning to help some folks a few miles up the road - I needed to lift some batteries up onto the roof of the house and connect them to their solar array. They're both too old now to lift batteries themselves, and that rickety ladder that seemed like such a good idea when they built the house thirty years ago is now a deathtrap. So I go over to lift their batteries, patiently waiting as they explain to me how its done, all the while waiting for them to go get a screwdriver or a piece of rope or something else they've forgotten, so I can just lift everything up to the roof before they get back. They never leave.
Time is suspended for the old and decrepid. They take hours to move a chair or spread some jam, staring down at the toast in front of them and moving their arm from the jar to the toast in what seems like years, and then doing it again. And again.
So the batteries are on the roof and they tighten down all the nuts in slow motion and I'm drinking tea and looking for an excuse to excuse myself. And they're talking about how much longer they can live where they are, on top of a mountain and off the grid, and how hard it is going to be to adjust to an old folks home. And then they offer me another piece of toast and insist on spreading the jam for me.
I make my getaway and go home and cut a basket of basil to take to Hot Springs - a friend has an Inn and is sponsoring a cooking class this weekend. I know the folks teaching the class, only the wife has been sick for a few years, and keeps getting worse instead of better and I have to pretend like I care whenever I see them.
I try to think of positive things to say but hear myself sounding phony so say nothing and she doesn't seem to care or notice, so intent is she is reciting her long list of ailments and woes. At least I'm off the hook. Or so it seems. Gradually the room fills up with people, so I start to feel like I have to say something, to at least not look stupid, so I again begin my optomistic banalities.
All I'm thinking during both these ordeals is that I want to get out of there. Somewhere in the back of my mind is the thought that this too could be me, and someday probably will, but then I start to think about something else and it's a little while before it again occurs to me that this too could be me, and someday probably will.
And how was your day?
1 Comments:
At October 10, 2006 3:28 PM,
Anonymous said…
I haven't been here in a while, so I'm just now catching up with you. And I had to say, this kind of writing is the reason I keep coming back. This, and the hummingbird in the shed. Thanks.
Post a Comment
<< Home