Neutron
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- Apr 19, 2001
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I walk every night. In fact I've walked every night for the last 15 months or so. I walk about 4 miles a night. I like just roaming the neighborhood, seeing whats up, teasing the local kids, and just walking. During the winter I stop and shovel about 4 or 5 drives and walks. All for older people so they won't have to overpay kids to do it.
You know I don't even know any of their names...
Throughout the years two people come to mind.
A Mrs B. A older lady, a neighbor. Walks by my place every night. Has a nice husband. I don't know either of their first names, nor much about them except I'd see their heads go by my window every night. Lately, I've only seen one head, hers. He had a stroke last year and is wheelchairbound. He can't speak, nor do I think he knows whats going on around him. I know this because I was out walking a few nights ago, and she was pushing him in a wheelchair... They've been married over 50 years. And I realize, over the last 13 years, since I've lived in my neighborhood, they've become a stitch in the fabric of my life. Not something irreplacable of course. Not a tear, but definitely something that can be popped and is noticed when it's missing.
Has anyone ever looked at an old familiar well loved garment and year after year pieces of it turn up missing? Eventually, it's still your garment, still loved, but it's changed. I've merely lost a stitch, Mrs B is losing fabric, in one of those slow tears that no one can do anything about.
It's sad.
Down the other way there's an older couple. The H s. He's been on a walker since I can remember. His wife strictly controls his diet. He's in his 80s. I know this because every now and then he'd come to my place when he knew I had the grill fired up, and cadge a hot dog for me so his wife wouldn't know. This would occur maybe twice a year. He'd always say, Key I'm 80 years old, it's not like this Hot Dog is gonna shorten my life any. I always suspected his wife knew what is going on but let it slide because these little forays of his was is only form of escape from the slow debilitating affects of age. Anyway, more often or not, in the summer, I'd see him when I was on my walks. They live on the corner. Early evening, I'll leave my house and walk right by that corner. They'd both be out on the front porch in their rockers. He'd be reading a book, and she'd just sit there. He knows I'm an avid reader and would always shout out an inquiry as to what I'm in the process of reading. I'd tell him and he'd joke he didn't need to read history because he lived it. Same joke, everytime, but I'd laugh just the same. When they weren't out I could always see them through their side window. He'd be reading in this huge chair, she'd be watching TV in a smaller version of the same chair. Over the course of time these people too have become those unnoticed threads that sort of give the garment we call life it's easy familiarity.
Starting a couple weeks ago it started bugging me that something was missing. I couldn't quite place it. I'd take my walks, tease kids, buy a diet soda at the store on the corner. Give treats to all the dogs on the route. Yet even with these familiar tasks something seemed wrong. I couldn't place it. Today I see their house is up for sale... It then occured to me what was missing was the H s sitting on that porch. He has terminal cancer, and will be dead soon, so she's selling the house. The fabric of her life is tearing, ever so slowly and eventually will rend, 65 years of marriage...
It's strange the things you think of. Ain't it weird when you notice something you didn't even know was there is now missing? Eventually I guess another thread or threads will arise to replace the ones I've recently noticed have popped in my life. In fact. most likely the new threads are already in place and I'll never know they were there until they're gone too.....
Sorry I rambled.
Tron
You know I don't even know any of their names...
Throughout the years two people come to mind.
A Mrs B. A older lady, a neighbor. Walks by my place every night. Has a nice husband. I don't know either of their first names, nor much about them except I'd see their heads go by my window every night. Lately, I've only seen one head, hers. He had a stroke last year and is wheelchairbound. He can't speak, nor do I think he knows whats going on around him. I know this because I was out walking a few nights ago, and she was pushing him in a wheelchair... They've been married over 50 years. And I realize, over the last 13 years, since I've lived in my neighborhood, they've become a stitch in the fabric of my life. Not something irreplacable of course. Not a tear, but definitely something that can be popped and is noticed when it's missing.
Has anyone ever looked at an old familiar well loved garment and year after year pieces of it turn up missing? Eventually, it's still your garment, still loved, but it's changed. I've merely lost a stitch, Mrs B is losing fabric, in one of those slow tears that no one can do anything about.
It's sad.
Down the other way there's an older couple. The H s. He's been on a walker since I can remember. His wife strictly controls his diet. He's in his 80s. I know this because every now and then he'd come to my place when he knew I had the grill fired up, and cadge a hot dog for me so his wife wouldn't know. This would occur maybe twice a year. He'd always say, Key I'm 80 years old, it's not like this Hot Dog is gonna shorten my life any. I always suspected his wife knew what is going on but let it slide because these little forays of his was is only form of escape from the slow debilitating affects of age. Anyway, more often or not, in the summer, I'd see him when I was on my walks. They live on the corner. Early evening, I'll leave my house and walk right by that corner. They'd both be out on the front porch in their rockers. He'd be reading a book, and she'd just sit there. He knows I'm an avid reader and would always shout out an inquiry as to what I'm in the process of reading. I'd tell him and he'd joke he didn't need to read history because he lived it. Same joke, everytime, but I'd laugh just the same. When they weren't out I could always see them through their side window. He'd be reading in this huge chair, she'd be watching TV in a smaller version of the same chair. Over the course of time these people too have become those unnoticed threads that sort of give the garment we call life it's easy familiarity.
Starting a couple weeks ago it started bugging me that something was missing. I couldn't quite place it. I'd take my walks, tease kids, buy a diet soda at the store on the corner. Give treats to all the dogs on the route. Yet even with these familiar tasks something seemed wrong. I couldn't place it. Today I see their house is up for sale... It then occured to me what was missing was the H s sitting on that porch. He has terminal cancer, and will be dead soon, so she's selling the house. The fabric of her life is tearing, ever so slowly and eventually will rend, 65 years of marriage...
It's strange the things you think of. Ain't it weird when you notice something you didn't even know was there is now missing? Eventually I guess another thread or threads will arise to replace the ones I've recently noticed have popped in my life. In fact. most likely the new threads are already in place and I'll never know they were there until they're gone too.....
Sorry I rambled.
Tron
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