He's game for this--time away from his room. He laughs at first and sips pink juice shot with coconut. The nurses poke at him and tease. He dons a coconut bra to add to their delight. For a while, he is swept away.
The lights dim and someone's daughter paints pretty pictures on the wall-slides from a trip to Hawaii-long ago. His butt starts to ache, squeezed too long in this steel frame. All around him- old souls hang on- some so far over the cliff they should probably just fall.
There's too much levity here; the kind that feels forced, like a smile at a funeral. He stares off-away from here. And wonders where he went.
Written By: Patricia Fowler 2/08
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Comments: 15
Nice work, Patricia.
And thanks for your comment on my Green Beads story.
My mother hates what has happened to her (stroke/paralysis), and is constantly uncomfortable. She participates in the festiviites, but tenatiously clings to the belief that it will all go away one day — that she will be well again and come home. It breaks my heart.
You have captured this very well.