Here She Comes Again

Here she comes. Like clockwork.  She is the kindest person I know.  OK, I don’t know many people, but she’s right up there, I’m sure.  We visit about the same time every day.  I think I am her closest confidant.  She can tell me anything and I will never judge.  Once in a while she is a bit cranky when I don’t have any good news.  Mostly she’s cheery and humming or singing a happy tune.

 

She has slowed down quite a bit in recent years, especially since he passed away. She isn’t as active or energetic.  But neither am I.  We both are getting a bit tired and old.  It’s a good thing she uses that third leg to keep her steady.  She used to run up the path, towing a toy wagon, clearing the bikes from the driveway, carrying armloads of stuff, yelling “Hurry up!” to bodies unseen.  She was quite the workhorse.

 

She seems a bit slower than usual today. As she reaches into her trusty bag she carries every day, she withdraws a tissue to dab at a tear that is slowly emerging.  She stares at me for what seems like a minute, expecting me to understand without words.  I sit with my usual quietness and acceptance.  She then reaches into her bag and withdraws a pink envelope.  She lowers it gently to me as I note the mail termination- forwarding envelope with today’s date.

 

I study her face. She is motionless but her wrinkled face and intense eyes suggest she is in deep thought, probably reflecting on our years together as I am also doing.  Another tiny tear emerges.  A small rusty particle drops from my old, rusty hinge.  She closes my door slowly, reluctantly.  We are both left with our memories.  I say a fond farewell.  I’m sure she hears.