I Cannot Understand People
I cannot understand people. I have been thinking for some time that I should put my affairs in order. Now that Peter is no longer with us, Kelly found a new lawyer that has been helping, as has the nice young man at the bank. It is time. I am becoming older and nothing is easy anymore. Much to my chagrin, I am losing balance and falling quite frequently. I ask myself in dismay, “What has happened to me? Where has my younger self gone? Who is this doddering old woman?”
This morning I had an appointment with the nice young man at the bank. It is a beautiful day. The bank is a few blocks away. Kelly graciously took my walker outside of the house for me and off I went. At first, the walk was pleasant, but at a certain spot, there seemed to be a slight decline. I firmly held onto the handles of the walker, still, I felt the walker going faster and faster! I clamped down on the brakes, but the walker would not stop! My legs could not catch up! My hands desperately gripped hard at the handles, yet, however desperately I tried, it would not stop! I let go! As I landed on my belly, I watched the walker overturn and stop just as it reached the curb. My legs and wrists screamed with pain; so did my ribcage. I landed on my belly, my face barely missing the sidewalk by a fraction of a millimeter! I let out a gasp of pain. A Chinese man passed by. He looked at me curiously. “Please help me,” I half cried and half sobbed. He impassively looked at me, an old woman lying on the sidewalk, half sobbing, half gasping with pain, and walked away. A young woman passed by. She barely glanced at me, skirted around me, and hurried along. It was early on a Saturday morning. There were not many people around. With great effort, I crawled to a wall. I struggled to sit up. I finally succeeded. Gasping with pain and dismay at the situation I found myself in, I fished in my bag which hung around my neck for my phone. I called Kelly. His voicemail picked up. My walker was a distance away. I stretched my torso and just barely managed to pull the walker closer to me. I eventually managed to pull myself upright and painfully hobbled into the bank. Tears of frustration and pain silently trickled down my face. The young banker had spotted me. He was with a client, but he walked out of his cubicle to greet me. As he looked at my face, a look of concern appeared on his countenance.
“I fell,” I explained briefly.
He hurried to get me a glass of water. “I shall not be long,” he said as he went back into his cubicle. I sipped the water gratefully. I somewhat calmed down. I felt safe now. I was among people who knew me. Presently Kelly walked in. He had received my message. I leaned back and allowed the gentlemen to conduct the matter on hand. I signed papers. I gratefully thanked the banker. Kelly led me to the car.
At home, I wearily climbed upstairs to the bedroom. I sat on my armchair, leaned my head back, and closed my eyes in relief. The radio played something soothing. June first Peter will be gone eight years. I wonder if this year I will be joining him? I am so tired, so drained. And the classical music plays on as I drift into a light sleep.