Reach

      His hand reaches across the table oftentimes. Sometimes she ignores it. I can see her ignore it, but he keeps his hand there, hovering above the table. He will smile at her, his head tilted down and slanted to the side, eyes looking up at her. When the suspense becomes too heavy she reaches out and they twiddle their fingers at the tips briefly. He smiles, she smirks. She secretly loves the game.

Stills

     I have been home for over one year and a half and I have begun seeing their lives as frames. When I reflect on their lives I see stills. Composed still photographic images. She's watching TV at the kitchen table in a wavy white wooden chair, HER spot. He's huddled over the computer desk listening to or reading something. He is twisting his hair poised in rapt blind attention to every detail. They are engrossed in buffet food, hovering over plates of mish and mash and soup and salad. She is face down sleeping at the table. Sometimes I check to see if she's o.k. I touch her lightly, tell her to go to bed. She nods and says o.k, but within seconds is face down again. From minute to minute, they laugh, they love, they fight, they fume. Small things become huge. A simple request becomes a raging inferno, in seconds.
     They are still learning about love and companionship, even though they are 86 and 90. Learning takes longer. they are more stubborn, more set in their ways, more stalwart in their stances. But they are still learning. He has learned to modify his critical over-reactions. She is learning to restrain from criticism and learning to praise. They, both, are learning to pick their battles more carefully. They are learning about limitations, too. Things that were once so easy have become tiring. Walking, hearing, breathing, even just standing up. They are learning the importance of naps. It is true what Shakespeare mused. From infants we come and to infants we will return.

Each Day

     About a year and a half ago, I moved back home with my mother. I know this sounds like I am a loser but as my mother was getting older (she is 86 now) I decided that I wanted to spend time with her and get to know her as an adult. I had missed out on knowing my father. he passed away in 1999, just before Christmas.
     Many people become too caught up in their lives to have a chance to do this, but I have always lived my life step by step, day by day because I would rather live my life to the fullest and marvel at each an every second then plan for some unknown future which doesn't even exist. I would rather starve and die when I am old, then live my life looking to the inevitability of decrepid-ness.and what I would like to do when I have to retire when I will then be too old to do it. I have never married or had children because maybe I am too selfish, or scared, or maybe I want to live my life for me and not have to compromise.
     If I become old and alone, I will have a lifetime of memories to keep me company. Its fun to live your life this way. Each day is day 1. Each day holds the possibility for a whole new life. Each day is a new path, a new potential, a new direction, a brand new adventure. The only thing that can possibly hold me back is me.

Dedication

This blog is dedicated to Albert Anthony Aguilar, who asked me to write.