Threadbare coat and scarf tied beneath her chin, she moves slowly down the street, one foot at a time. She clings to her walker, dented and bent, decorated with a single flower and the stickers of grandchildren seeking to brighten an old life. She moves with a graceful determination, traveling the sidewalks of another time, blue eyes peering unfocused and distant from beneath her sagging brow, as if her vision is now directed inward, revisiting better times. Her face is a road map of experience, a pencil sketch in love and loss and life renewed. And as she passes me, a ghost of a smile plays about her mouth and for a moment, I share her distant times, when love was eternal and they ran in the surf under a marmalade sky and promised they would always hold each other's hands, best friends forever.
1 comment:
Dear Jan,
This post made me cry(in a nice way). You have described my nearly 91 year old Mum. She lives a long way from us, though we try to get to see her as often as we can, and when we take her out, she uses her walker & reminisces about years gone by as she toddles along.
Thank you, your writing is so thought provoking.
Hugs Lucy
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