Just Another Wyoming Sunset posted 4/30/2008 4:29:06 PM | 23 kudos what's this?     report abuse

Tunes4u

She was pulling herself down the brashly lit, bland pastel colored hallway with tired skinny wrinkled legs going as fast as they could. Old worn out slippers, barely able to reach the floor, got little traction on the once waxed surface. It was reasonably clean though, and that made it hard to gain purchase.

Being at least in her 90's, she was making all of 3-4 inches a minute, blazin' down that smooth crowded tunnel, sitting in her old friend, her wheelchair. It was hard work. You could tell she was working it for all she was worth. It was also easy to tell she had done this before.

A steady stream of seniors weaved their way slowly and clumsily around her and past her, like she wasn't there. All of them, and the old woman too, were in pajamas of one sort or another. Everything was wrinkled. No one looked at each other with more than a passing glance.

And there were staff members, nurses and orderlies also trying to get by, deftly dodging their way through the hallway towards their all so very important destinations, like their minds were somewhere else too. The old woman might as well have been invisible. But I couldn't take my eyes off her.

As I carefully made my way down the hall, towards this woman, I saw ancient but alert eyes catch my approach in her peripheral vision. What was left of it anyway. I could tell she became aware of my presence, and sure enough, as I passed, I thought heard a tiny scratchy voice.

She had asked a question. I heard it, and yet her voice was so quiet in that noisy hall, I wasn't sure. So I turned, she was looking up right at me, puffing a bit.

I asked her if there was something I could do for her. And as she struggled a little to catch her breath, and with a genuine smile in her eyes, Nelly asked me if I could give her a push down to the kitchen. She said she was starving and wanted to find something to eat. She kinda looked like she had been starving all her life. A toothpick came to mind.

We managed to get her feet back up on to the little platforms, I grabbed a hold of the handles of her trusty steed, and we carefully made our way to the Home's kitchen down the "hallway with no exit."

A kitchen worker came up to us, and bent over so Nelly could look into her eyes. A kindly gesture I thought to myself, as she greeted the old woman by name with a friendly arm on her shoulder. The worker it seemed, had done this before too. They knew each other and were friends. I wondered for how long, and for how much longer. This worker was full of compassion, and had surely seen many of the Home's residents come, and leave.

I asked if my services were needed any further, and Nell asked me to stay for a minute, as this wasn't going to take long. She would appreciate a push back to her room. I had thought maybe a dinner was in order. Something to be eaten out in the cafeteria with some of the other residents of this place. Maybe there would be some sort of entertainment.

The cook asked Nelly if the regular item was on the menu today and the old woman nodded with a sparkle in her eye. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich. That was it. Oh...and a pickle too, for dessert.

This old woman works hard everyday, down that long hallway, and then back, struggles in her own world, with no one left of her family to help her, for her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Everyday of the week the worker told me.

I waited until Nelly was clutching her sandwich and the all important pickle with skeleton fingers, and then we made our way back up the hallway, the wheelchair squeeking a bit. Still harshly bright, and still empty of any sign of joy. Except in my passenger's eyes. She had a sandwich, a pickle, and a free ride. A good day for sure.

Nelly's room was rather the same as the hallway. prison like in many ways. Faded almost chalky pastel colors everywhere, trying to avoid any disturbance of a mindless existence. Lord forbid there be a colorful picture on the wall.

A single dusty fake flower arrangement on an old side table looked to have been there as long as Nelly must have been. The blinds were partialy open, barely revealing a spectacular sunset going on outside, apparently unnoticed by anyone in that place, except me. I opened the blinds a little, hoping some of the color in the sky would stick to the walls of that room. And I took that plastic plant, and held it under the facet in the bathroom to rinse of the dust. I watered it she mused. It looked a little better, and I think she liked that.

The bed was plain, made nice and neat and standing like it was waiting for it's present occupant to hurry up , so as to get on to the next one. Although I have only spent one evening in a jailhouse in my almost 58 years on this planet, I think I can recognise one when I see one.

After getting my new friend back to her cubicle, parked in her wheelchair in front of a dirty window looking out over the glorious mountains of Wyoming, driving in the fading light of the evening on my way home, I thought about her childhood, and high school, and dancing, and going on dates, and falling in love, and having children, and raising them, and life's tragedies, and life, and.....endings.

Suddenly, without warning,


I cried.

Until I couldn't cry anymore.

And I am not even sure why.

Or for whom.

Stay Tuned

I do

Tunes

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