Driving Home

[Pink]

Driving home from the Nursing Home seemed to take forever. Going through my mind was a review of every moment of the visit, each word spoken and what I was thinking. I didn’t really want to go but felt I should begin my goodbyes to him, he would not last more than another year. Besides, if I went to his funeral I’ll be sitting with our kids and I’d want their respect. I knew he would tell them that I had visited and that we had a civil conversation.

Somehow, I didn’t expect to have him meet me at the check-in desk. He looked like a shadow of his former self, yet, his eyes and smile told me it was him in that wheelchair, long before I got near the desk. Tooling down the hall at a steady clip he came to met me, with his head and body frozen motionless in supports and cushions. The joystick was cupped in his motionless right hand; somehow he manipulated it by moving his arm with shoulder tugs and leaning his body slightly. The kids warned me about his computer voice, amplified by the hook-up in his chair. But, I was still surprised at hearing him greeting me with his pick-up line from over forty years ago!

Hey Pink Lady, you look like something sweet!

My comeback retort automatically popped into my mind and I bit my ginning lower lip to hold back the words, since we were in a public place. He laughed with a coughing gasp for air. I blushed a shade of hot red, which I could feel in my face and on my neck and chest. This made him rattle with his coughing laugh even harder. I signed in at the welcome desk with shaking hands . I followed him to the dining hall for a cup of coffee and our first visit in more than a decade.

Driving home – Section 1.1 (First Draft) Monday, January 04, 2010 – by Carol Pink - Rights Reserved