It was true. The willingness of old age showing seldom in your face, every wrinkle and crevice filled with a memory here and there. I leaned over the soft polyester blanket to take your hand in mine. Your face lit up slightly, showing a small smile with pink gums and nothing else. Your long white hair like snow curled around you like yet another blanket. I saw your eyes flutter down into a closed position slowly, and a cry escaped my throat. When those long lashes met the bottom ones, tears ran uncontrollably down my face. They splashed and ran down that soft sky blue polyester blanket that I now keep in the cupboard, right behind that picture of you and me, which is black and white with tattered edges and a sepia tint. The picture was of you and me, smiling and laughing as hard as we could, just like old times.
Just Like Old Times
April 7, 2010