There is an elderly couple in line behind me at the fabric store. The elderly man is short, stout, and wearing a bucket hat. His checked shirt is tucked into pants that are belted high on his waist. When he smiles at my baby, I notice that he's missing a tooth. His eyes sparkle and seem childlike. He is harmless, quiet, the very definition of benign. The baby flashes a half smile; the old man starts making duck noises. I think nothing of this--babies bring out the kid in everyone.
The old woman is short, too. She smiles at the baby and remarks on how quiet he is. I smile back. Her pale grey hair is cropped short, and she's carrying an armload of bright orange felt. It reminds me of pumpkin Halloween costumes. "Stay here," she says to the old man, "I need to get some thread." He nods his understanding.
The woman has been gone for just a couple of minutes when the old man gets tired of making duck noises at the baby and wanders away. She returns with her armload of orange felt and says, "Where did he go?" I show her where he's standing, over by the Halloween decorations.
"Oh, thank goodness," she says. "He has Alzheimer's. Sometimes he wanders off. I just needed some thread." She tacks on this last sentence by way of explanation, I think, but it sounds like a plea for understanding. I don't know what to say, so I just nod.
The old man wanders back over to where we're standing, and the old woman reprimands him, but gently, like I would speak to a two-year-old. "Don't wander off!" she says. "When I tell you to stay in line, I need you to stay. Do you want to give me a heart attack?" The old man looks ashamed. I feel as if the rug has been pulled out from under me. I have the feeling that I have just witnessed something I wasn't supposed to see.
I pay for my purchases and leave.
Very touching piece.
Posted by: Twilit | October 03, 2008 at 04:45 AM