The old man, (eighty seven I had been told by the vicar,) looked to be asleep, memories of past glories no doubt crowding his dreams. I smiled, then settled next to him and reached out a hand, a gentle touch. "Heard you knocking love," he chuckled, surprising me, "thought I'd let you make your own way in," eyes still as bright as sunrise, "nice to see a youngster for a change."
"You should keep your door locked," I said. Tea?"
"Rather have a cold beer," came the reply.
"That's what the vicar told me you would say," I said, thinking that bone and brain clearly don't age at the same rate, "do you take sugar?"
"Two, and swirl the teabag for a good half minute or so please M'dear. Biscuits are in the top left cupboard over the kettle."
We talked for a time then. He told me about Hilary his wife. She'd been a keen gardener, keener church goer, much more than he ever was. "But it's nice the church remembers. Nice they send someone along for a chat, especially a youngster. That other one spent most of her time tidying and lecturing me about not giving up. You going to come and see me again then?
I smiled and nodded in the affirmative, strangely captivated.
"Good," he said, "I like your smile love, can't stand sympathy smiles. Gets right on my nerves that does."
I smiled again, trusting it was empathy not sympathy that traversed the short distance between us. "See you next week then," I said, secretly pleased at forty three, going on forty four, to be called a youngster. "And make sure you lock your door tonight."
He's a lovely man, astute and not in the least 'old' in either spirit or mind. As part of our church outreach group I visit several of our older village residents every month and stay for a chat and a cup of tea. I very much enjoy the visits and have to admit that I often find the older generation's take on modern life to be quite fascinating.
So you're one of those lovely angels who visits the old and sick. Now, who said we were supposed to do that? Hmmm, let me think. Oh, yeah... Jesus.
I love this, Beccy. It made me smile and remember those who visited with my father during his last days. If I'm very, very lucky, someone like you will come visit me when I'm near the end.
Beccy,
Such a modern poem! A free verse short story that captures an important element of life in the twenty-first century, or any other for that matter, it's just that in previous times, daily life of the common people would not have been given credibility as worthy of art. I think we owe our perspective to Charles Bukowski, the fellow who almost single-handedly rescued us from postmodernism and the remnants of other poetic restrictions. Yours is my favorite kind of poetry.
A million years ago, my first job was as an orderly in a hospital where I met 102 year old Mr. Henderson. I ask how he made it to such an age, his reply, "Wine, women. and song..." he gathered quite a reputation for pinching the nurses when they came by.
Vol
Posted 1 Year Ago
1 Year Ago
Thanks for the review Vol. I love the anecdote and good on old Mr Henderson I say. -:
.. read moreThanks for the review Vol. I love the anecdote and good on old Mr Henderson I say. -:
you are absolutely write ma'am .. age is just a word .. unless one allows it to be otherwise .. your gift shines through here Beccy .. this is a lovely series of personal real life recollections poemed to perfection .. with much respect and fondly yours, me :)
This is great from start to finish! Just flows so well, and is filled with sincerity and bittersweet melancholy. It's a great look at the human condition and some of the important (maybe all the important things) it entails: love, ageing, death. Really, this is a great write!
dear Beccy... you are quite Novel in the manner you pen your words.. as though We are there to witness the fragility of Life. Our most artistic thoughts are realized when we retire from Protocol and simply see Life for what it truly becomes. gently, Pat
Funny that I would happen to read this right before visiting my Nan. She's 96. Sure I'll go over there and talk about the great depression and other things of that nature. We all always do after the pleasantries are done with. I like her memories almost as much as she does. I can relate somewhat to your story. As far as this work goes, it's pretty solid. Very entertaining. Obviously by the other reviews, everyone else feels the same. Your ability to bring us there with you is without flaw. It's great read you again. CD
Reminds me of chats with mum over tea and biscuits " there's shortbread in the top cupboard, your favourite" her talking to me at 56 as though I were still 5 or 6.
We'd sit and she'd run through recent deaths and illness amongst the inmates of her warden controlled housing complex, she was a living obituary column:)
What I'd give to have one more inane, same old, same old chat :(
Good to see you here :))
Enjoyed the read Beccy
He's a lovely man, astute and not in the least 'old' in either spirit or mind. As part of our church outreach group I visit several of our older village residents every month and stay for a chat and a cup of tea. I very much enjoy the visits and have to admit that I often find the older generation's take on modern life to be quite fascinating.
I'm forty four, single and have a lovely fifteen year old son called Charlie. I've been writing poetry and short stories since I can remember. I have always been an assiduous reader of poetry and real.. more..