Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Drifting Toward Twilight

A cool breeze brushes my face, sunlight hits my eyes. I blink, reach for you. Get up, grab the paper and fix oatmeal, for two. Eat alone, the television newscaster mumbles.

Phone rings. Kids want to take me to dinner and talk. I know what’s coming: They love me. Want my best. You’ve been gone so long. I forget things. Might hurt myself. They’re busy. Can’t always check in. They’ve talked to the doctor. Found a nice place. I'd enjoy being with people my own age. They love me and want what’s best.

If you were here I’d be OK.

1 comment:

  1. This says it all for me: "fix oatmeal, for two. Eat alone."

    Really, that's a Hemingway style six word story right there.