Old people. 907Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6GsDRNQi5w
Old people with their old people smell. Mum always yells at me when I say that. She says I’m being ‘disrespectful’…. whatever that word means. The way she says it, with her eyebrows drawing together, glancing nervously around the room makes me think it must be a swear word or something. Granny lives in a Nursing-home. Granny used to sit me on her knee and whisper things in my ears. She said nursing homes was just a waiting room for death.
Mum was really upset when I said that to her. She said that word again – ‘disrespectful’. But now Granny’s here, in the waiting room.
I’ve never liked waiting rooms. The toys are always cracked, books with pages ripped out of them. It always made waiting that much worse – especially when it was the dentist. If they’re going to pull my teeth out, I should get a decent truck with all four wheels on it! I told mum that once – and she used that swear word again. I hope Granny gets better toys while she waits. They’ve got to be better company then these strange, moping old people. They stare at you with shiny eyes and drooping eyelids. Granny says they are her friends – so I guess the toys are worse than the ones at the dentist.
Not all of the old people – or as mum calls them ‘elderly’ – are like that. Some tell exciting stories! It’s one way to spend your time in the waiting room. Mr Ovary talks about his time as a boy, stealing away pieces of carrot cake while it cooled on the bench, rummaging through his parents’ dresser looking for loose change. He said he found more than change in that old white dresser, and then laughed heartily. Why he laughed I don’t know, but I would always join in. I liked the way his voice was like mine but older, deeper, old as the gum-tree in my backyard.
Mrs Lint used to make dresses and things. One of her fingers has permanent marks on it from the thimble she used to wear like a wedding ring. She said that as she got older her sight turned into tunnels. I told her l liked trains and she would smile at me that special smile they all smiled. She would then pat my head, resting her hand on my hair for a moment before asking me how kinder was. I would hold her hand the way I had seen mum hold Granny’s and tell her softly that I love and cherish her. Old people like it when I say that. Their old, dull eyes would shimmer like black pebbles in the stream by the park. I like the word ‘cherish’ – it makes old people happy.
One day Mrs Lint wasn’t in her room. I asked mum where she went, but she wouldn’t tell me. I went to Granny and I sat on her bed and I asked her. Granny had big blotchy eyes – red and big and bright. She said nothing as she showed me her two hands curled over into frail fists. We sat side by side on her bed as I stared at her hands.
‘Pick one.’
I did and inside was a button. It was big and round, the funny colourless lights didn’t shine down on it the way light should. I remember Mrs Lint saying she would give it to me when I was poking around in her sewing box. She had said it was the receipt for the waiting ticket – and that I should have it. I curled my own fingers around it, my hands small and smooth compares to Granny’s. I asked Granny what a receipt was and she said you get it when you order something, while you wait for whatever you were getting. I guess Mrs Lint got what she was waiting for. Her little room was empty, making me sad. I wish she was still waiting. I even missed her old person smell – soap, fish and butter. Granny said it was okay to miss her; everyone needs someone to miss them once in a while. I asked Granny what death was like. She said she didn’t know – she hadn’t been there yet. I said I wish everyone would just stay here. She said people should do things while they wait. Granny didn’t have the energy anymore. I said I have lots of energy. She had smiled at me then and opened her other hand. Inside was a seed, a tiny little seed.
‘This one is from me.’ Granny told me.
‘What do I do with it Granny?’ she lay down on her bed and smiled up at me.
‘Well,’ she said softly, ‘you put it in the ground and water it every day. Slowly it will grow. Up and up and up it will go. It will change, but that’s okay Timmy – change is good.’
She closed her eyes, her face lined like a piece of paper folded over and over.
‘Granny?’
‘It’s okay Timmy. You have my receipt now.’ Her voice was so soft; I could almost hear her smile. ‘I love you Timmy.’
I slipped my hands into hers and leaned closer, tucking the button and seed in my pocket;
No more waiting.
‘I love and cherish you Granny. I really, really do.’
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