 |
| Painting by Marc Chagall |
The old woman is seeking me out. I don’t know who she is. She can’t be my mother because she never got to be that old. This woman has wispy grey hair that falls from a bun as she sits on a bench overlooking the lake with the wind blowing slightly. She wears a coarse wool sweater too big for her arms, maybe her husband’s? But there’s no husband with her and as the sun warms her face she is closing her eyes, lost somewhere. I don’t know what she’s thinking, something long ago, a memory of images, not words, because words have left her.
She rubs her hands together, though it’s a warm day, breathes in deeply, and notices the flowers nearby, Garden Walk beds at the marina. She recalls walking on the paths and hears sounds of waves splashing gently in front of her. Not an ocean but a lake, one of the great ones. She wishes she could see the colors, but closes her eyes, remembers.
She turns her head to the side, hears seagulls squawking, they might be circling, but then she can’t see them either. She unravels the sleeves of her sweater, runs her hands along the fabric on her shoulders. She’s not quite sure how she got here, doesn’t care really, just to be out and feel the air, once again, to notice...everything.
A voice behind her,
“Vivian, are you ready?”
The voice is close, but not familiar. She recognizes the name but no, she is not ready. She shakes her head, now noticing the dampness of the grass on her feet. The voice moves closer. She feels the weight of the bench shift as the presence sits beside her.
“Quiet,” she would say if she had the words. She holds up her hand, “Shh…”
Then the voice, “How in the world did you get this far? Look at you, dressed like a ragamuffin! I been lookin’ for you for over an hour!”
A welcome pause as she sorts through the garbled syllables.
‘If you want to come down to the lake, you just let us know and we’ll bring you down here. We got a van and I’m sure Miss Kay would be happy to join you. Ain’t nothin’ Miss Kay would like better than to make a quick exit like you did. Surprised she isn’t wanderin’ around here with you.”
The voice sounds friendly, not scolding, so she reaches out and squeezes the arm gently, the soft cotton, smooth, most likely a uniform.
“It’s all right, Miss Vivian, I’m gonna take care of you. I’m gonna give a call up to the office and have them send the van down to get us. Get you some shoes while they’re at it.”
She reaches up to the woman’s face. A round cheek, cool, familiar. She knows this face though she’s never seen it and feels a warm hand patting her own.
“It’s okay, I’m gonna stay right here with you until the van comes to get us. We’re gonna enjoy the lake for a few minutes, okay? Okay. Just sit tight.”
She pulls her hand away and lets both hands fall gently in her lap.
Seven beeps then, “Yeah, I found her. (pause) Right near the flowers and the boat launch. (pause) That’s right. Right where she was last time. I’ll be damned if she gets on a boat one of these days! Then she’ll be all the way to Canada before we can say boo! (pause) I think we should tell her son, let him figure it out. We’re not prison guards or anything. (pause) Yeah, I’ll be back back up there in a few.”
The two sit in silence breathing in the warm moist air. Together, apart. Both are remembering.
No comments:
Post a Comment