Tag Archives: old age

WIND CHIMES

As Marie sits on the porch, the wind blows gently through the chimes. The sound doesn’t make Marie feel happy. Instead, there is an empty aching feeling that deepens. A tear slides down her face. She doesn’t bother to wipe it away.

Wind Chimes- Pixabay

The sound of the chimes brings back memories of her life with her husband, Harry. At times it feels as if he has been gone a hundred years ago. And at other times, she feels as if he might walk through the door at any moment. He would be wearing his red and white, Banlon striped shirt with a pack of Pall Malls in his pocket.

Harry Carlyle was a creative man. He had many hobbies, but by far, his favorite hobby was making wind chimes. He was a voracious reader. He read on every subject. And although Harry wasn’t a religious man. He never attended church, nor did Marie ever see him pray. He was a spiritual man. He studied all the religions of the world, including Christianity. At the end of his life, Harry seemed to believe in Buddhism and often quoted the teachings of Buddha.

Harry believed that bells and chimes attracted positive energy and repelled bad luck. He believed in living in the moment. that the past is gone, the future hasn’t happened yet. Harry began feverishly, making chimes, and they hung all over the entrances of their small home. On windy or rainy days, the chimes and bells would ring with great fervor. It set Marie’s teeth on edge. But Harry lived for these moments.

Harry and Marie were unable to have children, and Marie built her life around Harry. Content when he was home, but she felt isolated and lonely when he went out. Marie continuously checks the windows to see if Harry had come home.

Harry’s sudden and unexpected death paralyzed Marie. She feels an emptiness so deep it must travel through her body and reach the center of the earth. Marie made the decision after Harry’s funeral that she would go on as if Harry were still among the living.

The next day Marie arose at her usual time and washed her face and brushed her teeth, and made breakfast. She finished her household chores as usual. She even caught herself making comments to Harry out loud.

Months have passed since then: unfortunately, Marie has found it harder and harder to keep up the façade. One day in the middle of changing the sheets, Marie happens to find Harry’s lucky coin under the bed. It was from China, and it had a hole in the middle and some incomprehensible symbols on it.

Marie walks out to the front porch and slumps into the chair. She sits and looks out over the overgrown Rose garden. Oh, how Harry loved roses. She can barely look at them. She feels like pulling the rose bushes out by the roots. She considers her life. She doesn’t believe she has the strength to get through one more day. She feels empty and so alone.

Unexpectantly she hears a small voice call out, “Hello, hi, I just love your chimes. I walk by your house every day on my way to school. I’m in the fifth grade. This is the first time I’ve seen anyone on the porch.”

“Well, hello, I’m glad you like them. My husband, Harry, makes them. I mean used to make them.”

“Doesn’t he like to make them anymore?”

“My husband died several months ago. You know you are going to be late for school, you better go.”

“Oh, I have a few minutes. I go to the Ben Franklin School. I’m in the Special Classes.”

“What kind of Special class? What’s your name anyway?” I don’t remember seeing you in the neighborhood before?”

“My name is Lizzie. My family just moved here from Philadelphia a while back. My daddy had to change jobs.”

“What about this Special class of yours?”

“Oh, my mom told me it is because I have trouble learning. Sometimes when I try to read all the letters get mixed up. It has another name, but I can never remember it.”

“Oh, that must make it hard for you.”

“Sometimes, but there are kids in my class who have even worse problems. My Mom tells me to do my best. I better get going, or I will be late. See you later.”

“Bye Lizzie, it was nice talking to you.” Marie watches Lizzie walks and skips down the street. Marie takes a deep breath and is surprised that the heavy feeling in her chest feels lighter. She decides to work in her garden. “I have really neglected these roses, look at these aphids.”

While Marie works in the rose garden, she thinks about Harry. She knows he wouldn’t have wanted her to give up on life. She knows that she had put up a wall so she wouldn’t feel her grief.

The more she thinks about it, she realizes that she put that wall up a long time before Harry died. It began to happen when she made Harry the center of her existence. Harry had brought the world to her. Once he passed, she found herself alone inside the walls of her home and the walls she created.

For the first time since Harry died, the tears ran freely down her face. “Oh, Harry, what will I do? I don’t want to live the rest of my life alone.” That night as she lay in bed, she realizes that there was still hope for Marie McFarland. And realizes she hasn’t thought of herself as Marie McFarland since she was married thirty years ago.

The next morning after she gets out of bed, she gazes at herself in the bathroom mirror and says, “Marie, you don’t look too shabby for a sixty-something lady.” And a smile spreads across her face.

After breakfast, Marie keeps glancing out the window. She doesn’t realize at first what she’s looking for. Then she thinks of Lizzie with her big blue eyes and her long braids hanging down her back. And her crooked smile. At that moment, Marie hears tapping at the storm door. She finds Lizzie standing at the door with her hand thrust forward. “Hi, this is for you. I know it isn’t as good as your husband’s, but I hope you might like it. I made it with all the broken colored glass my father gave me. He makes stained glass. It’s a wind chime.”

Marie swallows hard, because of the lump in her throat. “Lizzie, this is the nicest gift I have ever received in my life. Could you stop by for some cookies before you go to school tomorrow? What’s your favorite kind? I’ll make them for you?”

“Oatmeal raisin is my absolute favorite I love them, I could eat a million of them.”

“Oatmeal raisin it is then, I’ll see you tomorrow. You know you can call me Marie, that’s what all my friends call me.”

Tea Break

The bed creaks as Sarah wrestles with her sweaty sheets. She closes her eyes tightly against the early morning light. She knows what time it is because she wakes up at seven-thirty every single day. Even the sleeping pills on her bedside table don’t allow her one more moment of rest.

Strottles the cat Photo by Bob Culver

She gives in, opening one eye at a time, and looks out her bedroom window. It’s a sunny, unbearably bright day. Sarah slides her bony feet into her worn purple slippers. Slowly, reluctantly she makes her way into the blue-tiled bathroom with the matching blue toilet and sink. Turns on the hot water and lets it run into the sink until steam rises to the mirror and obscures her face. She plunges her hands into the fray of water and splashes it on her face. Grabs a towel and roughly dries her face.

Sarah returns to her bedroom and pulls on a pair of elasticized pants, shrugs on an old white tea shirt with a faded American flag on the front, and pushes her feet into her ancient yellow leather Keds.

Holding tightly to the railing as she descends the staircase. Sarah fears falling more than anything. She lives alone, save for her cat, that occasionally shares her bed. Strottles went out several nights ago and hasn’t returned yet. He has an active love life, a happy bachelor.

Sarah wouldn’t admit to anyone how jealous she was of her cat.  That is, if she had anyone, she felt she could confide her deepest feelings. Although she often whispers them into her feline Lothario’s velvety ear. He at least has never betrayed her lonesome soul.

A week ago, Sarah ate a breakfast of burnt toast and Earl Grey tea. She heard Strottles meowing outside the kitchen door. Strottles stood at the bottom of the steps with five multi-colored kittens. Sarah blinked several times, stepped back into the kitchen, and closed the door behind her.  She sits down, and a tear runs down her face into her teacup, adding a salty taste to her morning repast.

This morning Sarah once again hears meowing at the back door. She looks out the window on the door and sees a black and white kitten staring back at her. At that moment, Sarah realizes that although humans had often failed to be faithful friends and left her behind when she needed them the most, cats had not.

Sarah opens the door. She sees not one cat but five, and behind them, Strottles. “Well, come in, come in. The heat is going out the door.”

“Well, Strottles, you have been a busy boy. Now here you are with a family. Where’s the Mama?”

“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” Oh, can’t take a joke? Well, it doesn’t matter. Let me get you and your feline family something to eat. I think I have some canned food for the babies. And some dry food for you. And perhaps some milk as well.”

Sarah opens the pantry door and gazes inside its dark interior. And she pulls the string that turns on the light. It reveals a pantry that needs restocking. Luckily, she always has cat food since Strottles has a healthy appetite. She takes down two cans, Chicken Delight and Pate’ Turkey and Giblets. One of Strottle’s favorites.

She sets out five saucers and Strottles bowl and places a little wet food, and mixes the dry food in it. Strottles is an old cat, almost twelve, and is missing most of his teeth. But he still manages to devour both the wet and the dry food. He mustn’t have had much to eat since he left save for the occasional mouse.

“Here you go, lad and lassies, breakfast. And here is your bowl, Strottles, the proud papa. You’ve done yourself proud with this little family.”

“You know, Strottles, I should’ve gotten you fixed years ago, and I think I will do that now. But I will take care of your babies until I can find some families to adopt them. Eat up now. And I’m going to give each of these little kitties a bath with Dawn just in case they have any fleas and you too, Strottles. I know you hate baths, but you play. You pay as my dad used to say.”

After the kittens have eaten their fill, Sarah walks over to the laundry room across from the kitchen. She puts a blanket in a box with a heating pad underneath it and places the kittens in one at a time. One of the kittens is the spitting image of his father, An orange-striped cat with emerald green eyes. Sarah can see he is going to be a big cat like his dad. His feet are enormous. And he has the longest tail she had ever seen on a kitten this little.  He keeps rubbing up against her legs.

After the kittens settle onto the blanket, Sarah covers them up to keep them warm. She stares down at her newly adopted family and feels a sense of contentment she hasn’t felt in a long time.

“Alright, Strottles, let me get the sink ready for your bath and clean you up. You look like you were sleeping rough. From now on, you will be staying in the house with your little family.”

As the sink fills with warm, soapy water, Sarah considers names for her new charges. She considers naming them after the Virtues of Prudence, Justice, Temperance, Fortitude, and Hope after she gets to know their personalities better.

She walks over to Strottles and picks him up. He protests by meowing as loudly as he can. Sarah ignores his crying and puts him gently in the sink. His meowing begins anew, but somehow, he is even louder.

Sarah says,” Settle down, it will be over before you know it, and then you can take a good long nap after your bath and toweling off. Sarah sprays Strottles and rubs Dawn over his body from his head to the tip of his striped tail. And then she rinses him off with warm water. Sarah rigorously towels Strottles off. As soon as she puts him down, he heads over to his cat bed in the living room and promptly falls asleep.

Sarah rinses off the sink and goes to the linen closet for some more towels for the kittens. Momentarily, she stops and thinks, what in the world am I going to do with six cats. She vows to herself not to get attached to the kittens.

It isn’t as easy bathing the kittens. Even though they are smaller, they’re so tiny they’re able to squirm and escape leaving trails of soapy water all along their escape path.

Sarah grabs the last kitten, who she decides to call Hope. She feels exhausted, and she’s dripping wet from head to toe. However, she can’t recall any time recently when she felt this happy and invigorated by anything she has undertaken.

Sarah walks over to the laundry room across from the kitchen. She puts a blanket in a box with a heating pad underneath it and places the kittens in one at a time. One of the kittens is the spitting image of his father. He is an orange-striped cat with emerald green eyes. Sarah sees he’s going to be a big cat like his dad. His feet are enormous. And he had the longest tail she had ever seen on a kitten this little.  He keeps rubbing up against her legs, and he has the loudest purring she had ever heard come out of such a small cat.

After the kittens settle onto the blanket, Sarah covers them up to keep them warm. She stares down at her newly adopted family and feels a sense of contentment.

Sarah decides she better makes a trip to the grocery store to do a little food shopping. She changes her clothes and puts on her good shoes and coat with her purse grasped tightly in her hand. She has a nagging fear that someone will steal her purse, and then where would she be?

It isn’t easy getting old. Sarah often feels as if she’s alone and out to sea in a boat. She suddenly realizes that now she’s smiling and feels her spirit-lifting because she has a purpose now and isn’t alone anymore. She feels better than she has in weeks.

Sarah steps out her front door and closes it with a bang, and locks the top and the bottom lock. You can never be too careful. The Mom and Pop grocery store is only a ten-minute walk, and Sarah quick steps it to the corner where she runs into Gloria. An old friend she hasn’t seen in months.

“Gloria, what a surprise to see you. I heard you moved in with your son after you had that heart attack scare. How are you? I’ve missed you so much. I don’t have your son’s address, so I couldn’t even send you a Get Well card.”

“I’m much better. I just came home two days ago. I was on my way to your house to see you. I should have written or called you. But for the first couple of months, I was in a nursing facility, and I was depressed. Then once I moved in with my son, they kept me busy every minute of the day. Where are you going? I’ll go with you. Maybe we could stop and have some tea at Tea Break. I have so missed their Ginseng Tea.”

“Why, that sounds like an excellent idea. I would love nothing better. I have some great news to tell you. You know, Strottles, my cat. He showed up this morning after being missing for quite a while, and he returned with a litter of kittens. And one is his spitting image. Anyway, this morning I bathed them all, and now I’m on the way to buy some supplies.”

“Well, I guess congratulations are in order. What are you going to do with a litter of kittens? I would love to have one. It gets lonely living alone. On the other hand, living with my son and daughter-in-law and my four grandchildren was wonderful but exhausting.”

“Really, well, after lunch, you can come over and meet the kitties. And spend time with them until you decide which will be best for you.”

As Sarah and Gloria continue on their way to Tea Break, they see their mutual friend Connie waving at them from across the street. They wave back and cross the street. Simultaneously, they say, “Hi, Connie. How are you?”

“Well, I’m better now that I see you two. Gloria, I heard you were back. I’m so happy to see you looking so well. Where are you two off to?”

“Connie, we ran into each other as I was walking downtown to get some supplies for Strottles’ kitties. And then, we decided to go to Tea Break and tell each other what we have been up to.”

“Well, that sounds like fun. Would three be a crowd? I would love to join you. I haven’t been out of my house in a month of Sundays.”

“Well, that would be great. ”

“Can you two give me a few minutes to run a comb through my hair and put a jacket on? I would love to catch up. I missed seeing you, Gloria. I heard you were staying with your son while you recovered.”

“Yes, but I’m much better now that I’m back home. I loved spending time with my grandchildren.  I’ll tell you all about it at Tea Break. We’ll wait out here while you grab a jacket.”

“Gloria, this is turning out to be a wonderful morning. First, Strottles shows up with his beautiful kittens. And now you’re home, and we meet up with Connie. And we’re all going out for a get-together. ”

“You’re right. I feel like a weight is off my chest. It will be such fun. I think we need to make this a regular thing for us to do together. ”

“You’re right. Sometimes there are days when I don’t see or speak to another soul.”

“I hate to admit it, but that’s true for me too.  And there is no reason on god’s earth for that to happen when we all live right down the street from one another, a short walk or phone call away.’

“And we can all thank Strottles for getting together because of his wanton ways. He is an old scoundrel, but I love him.  Oh, here comes Connie. Let’s go.”

“Look out, world, here we come. Hey, while we’re at it, why don’t we stop and see the matinee at the Roxy Theater and then have some dinner on me.”

“Sound like a plan. So Sarah, what have you been up to? Anything new?”

“I’ll say, but let’s walk up to Tea Break, and then I’ll tell you the whole story.”

Beddy-Bye

At four-thirty sharp every morning, my eyes fly open, I‘m wide awake. This morning I look over at the digital clock that is large and glowing, and it is blinking 12:00. Oh, oh, it seems as if the power went out again. We must have had another electrical thunderstorm. Wonder, what time it is? I make a bet with myself that it is four-thirty in the morning.

I blindly make my way over to the bathroom and flip the light quickly on and off, long enough to see the alarm clock. It has a backup battery. I win or lose, depending on whether I’m feeling optimistic or pessimistic at any given moment. It is indeed 4:30 am. My inner clock has wakened me up at 4:30 am.

This had happened to me every night since August 23, 1986, when my mother passed away from a complete coronary and respiratory arrest. On that particular night, I had wakened up from a sound sleep at 4:30 am and knew my mother passed.

At five am the aide, Doris, who was staying with my mother during the week, called to let me know that my mother had died. The ambulance arrived at the house to take her to the hospital, but of course, I was too late.

Doris, the aide, thought my mother’s refusal to have the air conditioner on or any of the windows open had precipitated her death. It was the hottest August 23rd in the recorded weather history of NJ up to this time. I had a new air conditioner put in my mother’s room, early in the spring. She had mid-stage dementia. And she was sometimes argumentative and combative.

Her disease had caused a radical change in her personality. Formerly a shy and quiet woman that spent her time saying the rosary, reading from her prayer book, and for excitement, she read the Reader’s Digest.

Oh, I almost forgot to mention she was completely blind for the past ten years from glaucoma. She became a paranoid and terrified woman who called me ten times a day to tell me someone was breaking into the house to steal her money, or that someone was hiding behind the living room chair, and smoking pot.

Before I realized what was going on with her, I used to sneak over to her house and peak in the living window to see if someone was hiding behind the rocking chair in the living room. Of course, there never was. Sometimes she called the police. And then they would call me. And I would assure them that she was somewhat senile, and I would be over shortly to check on her. 

My mother suffered these delusions for three years before I was able to get her to agree to go to a psychiatrist who specialized in sedating senile patients into submission, or as in her case, sleeping away the rest of her life. Subdued.

But that day, she had refused to take the sedative and was acting delusional and stubborn. There wasn’t much left of her. But what was there was stubborn when she wanted to be.

I waited until seven in the morning to call the rest of my family, and they were all upset that I hadn’t called them earlier, as if it would have made any difference. She was buried four days later at Calvary Cemetery, next to my dad, who had passed away from lung cancer eight months earlier, after a short battle of eight months, the longest months of my life.

The day is quite long when you wake up at 4:30 every morning.  Sometimes the days seem to run one into the other. This day would be no different. I was exhausted when I fell into bed, into a deep sleep, at ten pm. A little tomato juice and Temazepam paved the way for a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

It was Sunday night, I had a full week ahead of me, but thanks to Mama’s little helper, I fell asleep ten minutes after my head hit the pillow, and didn’t wake up until eight-thirty the following morning. I woke up slowly. The room seemed different somehow, oh I realized it was daylight and not the usual pitch dark I wake up to. I had slept the entire night. I thought this is going to be a good week.