Generations - Conclusion

My car and many more cars went through multitude revolutions as my hair grayed and grandchildren came along. I transferred to the back seat and watched the trees change from lush to colorful to bare to snow-laden to lush again. 

A rumor of a morning hung out there, behind the dull shroud. A mist rose from the lake to merge into the veil.  Patches of light emerged in the midst of darkness while a scythe of a moon lingered, overstaying its welcome. Birds blindly floated from branch to branch, guiding their path through song.  A gust flew in, steering the clouds away, parting the curtain for the spot light of the morning, allowing the show to begin. 

 

We pull into a space in a large parking lot and I unfasten my seat restraint.  The door wouldn’t open from the inside, child safety lock still in place.  My daughter steps out of her driving seat and holds my door ajar.  My feet touch the hard concrete and she helps me pull my large behind up. I take the cane she hands me and steady my stance on the firm surface.  My three legs move forward with my daughter beside me, holding my hand, matching my pace. 

The building that welcomes us is large with an automatic sliding door.  We step into a grand entryway with a large foyer and a reception desk on one side.  A young man greets us and invites us to check in at his desk.  We take our seats facing him, my cane leaning against his desk in one corner.  My daughter lets go of my hand to pick up a pen and sign the papers presented to her.  My hand feels empty, cold, abandoned.  I lean in to decipher the words on the paper, but my eyes betray me.  All I see is little black ants crawling up the page, moving in circles, down a line in single file.  I bring my abandoned hand to a pen on the desk and begin to fiddle with the instrument.  Click click. Click click.  The young man and my daughter glance up at me and then at the pen.  I’m at a loss as to what’s bothering them?  I don’t hear any irritating sounds.

Paperwork finally completed, we rise.  The two young people fuss about me, handing me my cane, pulling out the chair, holding my arm so I can rise up and steady myself.  We follow the young man across the foyer through a hallway.  As we reach the end, I hear a cacophony of sounds as if a cocktail party is in session.  A door swings open and we walk into a large hall.  There are people everywhere, standing, walking, sitting on a sofa absorbed in a book, sitting around several tables in midst of various games. I notice women in wheelchairs, men with hearing aids, people with IV’s or oxygen tank next to their seat. Some hold cards in their hand, others make much noise at the mahjong table. A group of men and women are sitting in a corner by the fireplace, absorbed in a deep discussion, each holding a book in their hands.

I turn to my daughter, look in her eyes and nod.  She smiles, kisses my forehead, gives me a hug and promises to return in a few hours.

The End