Note: This post has been imported for “completeness” of my blog. It was originally posted on a different blog, “The Hushed Allegory”. But as time has moved along, this blog seems to be my legacy of sorts. So, I think it is fitting to roll this post (along with a few others) into these archives. The original “genesis” of this blog was the post titled, “Delighted to meet you…”.
The shadowy memories of yesteryear are about as clear of my vision of today. However, the feelings and emotions are still resilient and alive in my slowing mind. If someone were to ask me how I was today, I would answer “old and weak… old and weak”, but the cool surface under my body sooths my aching muscles. Slowly, I blink my eyes; nothing happens any faster than slow these days. Slowly stand up. Slowly walk to the door. Slowly eat my food and drink my water. And slowly lay back down. Lying here, I know there is love in the room, it’s just a sense we have, we know when we are wanted and we know when we are loved.
The room around is so bright; I rest my eyes for a little while. Remembering the past is difficult, my mind yearns to just remain in the present, doing nothing but taking in whatever sensory feelings I have left. Although, remembering the past is a way to keep going when you are as I am. With my eyes closed, I am able to concentrate on the past, blocking out all the illness of the present. My favorite memories are the furthest back. I was much smaller then, crawling under the rungs of kitchen chairs… sitting by the window, watching the birds outside, waiting for just the right moment, when they would all be gathered on the closest branch, then giving a convivial bark sending them scattering with flustered feathers… running after a ball… tearing apart toys… but nothing, compares to bedtime, following heavy footsteps up the stairs, taking a right, and another right at the end of the hall, then sitting there expectantly, until he, my best friend, invites me up onto the bed. There we snuggle with soft warm sheets, and each other, dreaming of the joys of tomorrow.
I remember Christmas mornings, everyone filled with so much happiness, tearing open paper packages. I would get so excited and help as much as I could with bows and ribbons, running with them when they came free. I remember car rides, my head hanging, and tongue flapping in the wind, with an intoxicating overdose of aromas, from every building and every person we pass. I remember table scraps, and I remember my spot, in the family room… the carpet, warn as I; the only spot in the house the sunlight never seems to leave…
My eyes blink open and I am brought back to the current moment as a hand touches my head. It’s a gentle hand, rubbing my ears and neck with affection. My family is here, I know their touch, and I know their scent… we may lose our minds, but we never lose our nose. With me through the years, they are who I love, as I am for them. The hand leaves my side, but the affection is still there. A twinge… a peck… a sense of relaxation. Slowly, I blink my eyes; nothing happens any faster than slow these days. I feel tired, old and tired, but relaxed. I close my eyes, so relaxed, and listen to my breaths, intentional and slow. Everything feels right… I know it is… and then I sleep.