archive #007

livejournal 09-05-2007

It smells of old people. She found that shouldn’t be too strange as it was filled with old people. Old women mostly, there is one complaining loudly, some are silent, but most of them are insane. No, she shouldn’t think that, they are not insane, they are ill, and not even all of them, the lady in the chair, she is just as sane as her, but simply has no other place to go. However, most of them, including her grandmother are old, empty people. They are all nutcases. Actually, she ponders, she should feel right at home. “This is a terrible place. I have nine daughters. Why then am I here?” she wants to agree. Agree terribly so, but she doesn’t. Perhaps people already told the lady why she’s here, but she has probably forgotten. She watches the ill, old people. What is here for them? Nothing, absolutely nothing, they merely have no other place to go or are unwanted.

“Where is your mind?” “I’ve lost it somewhere along the way.”

She holds the hand of the fragile old lady who counts the buttons of her coat. It’s the third time she counts them. She opens them and then buttons them again. Her hands have become thin and fragile. She sits small and bent over. It’s not her grandmother, yet it is, but it’s not. She has no choice; she has to place two opposing sentences next to each other. The old lady is not while she is. “When is grandfather coming home?” “He is home.” “Oh, I haven’t seen him for a long time.”

“Look there, it’s a magpie. Hello, pretty bird. Oh, it’s flying away.”

She hates the smell really, but she loves the fragile old lady. She embraces and kisses her on the cheek. It’s the rare occasion that her grandmother smiles. She is afraid mostly, afraid and confused. She knows she fears not knowing something; so it must be terrible not to be sure of anything and when nobody confirms what you want to hear. No, her grandmother is much more confused than she is. For every moment for her is forever and always, but once it’s gone, it has never been there at all. “It is a good coat, must be nice and warm.” “Look, there is a button.”