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Memory: A short first person perspective of someone in a nursing home, and their desires
Posted by Michael K, Oct 6, 2007. 1300 views. ID = 108

Memory

Posted by Michael K, Oct 6, 2007. 1300 views. ID = 108
This post was written in 12 minutes.
I'm not elderly myself, so I may have this all wrong, but it's my idea, anyway.
This post has been awarded 24 stars by 6 readers.

I'm not looking for sympathy or pity; I'm surrounded all day long by nurses who are paid to take pity on me.

What I am looking for is someone to help me into their car, and take me for a drive through the neighborhood, so I can see once again the green coming back to the lawns, and blossoms flourishing on the trees. Let me see again the little children splashing in puddles of mud, and playing catch in the field.

I'm not looking for tapes and CDs and books; music plays here from sunup to sundown, whether I like it or not. And every book I want to read, I've already read.


What I am looking for is someone to sit with me, and sing with me the songs I love; the songs of my childhood church days, the songs we used to sing on quiet evenings at home.

I'm not looking for someone to buy me a newspaper; the newspaper only reminds me that I have one less friend today than I had yesterday, and that the world is a worse place today than it was on the day I was born. The newspaper only makes me wonder if I even made a difference in this miserable place.

What I am looking for is someone to sit and tell me the stories of their lives and the people in their lives. Tell me your secret hopes and dreams, and the ways you want to change the world for the better.

I'm not looking for someone to tell me about x-box and instant messages and idk what else; those are part of a world I no longer understand, or am part of. And in truth, I have no interest in learning about it.

What I am looking for is someone to sit in silence and listen, maybe to hold my hand, maybe to ask me a question, and listen to me tell the stories of my world - the world that exists nowhere else but in my memory.

What I am looking for, what I desperately want to know, is that after I am gone, I will be remembered.


Copyright 2007 Michael K. All rights reserved. FifteenMinutesOfFiction.com has been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work. For permission to reprint this item, please contact the author.
 


   
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This post has been awarded 24 stars by 6 readers.

Comments


Douglas
Oct 6, 2007
Tomorrow morning I'm preaching at a local nursing home (something I do once a month). I can tell you you got at least a couple things right...the residents who know me personally all want to ask me about what's happening in my life, and the ones who don't know me personally just want to tell me stories about their family, their childhood, things they've done, etc.

I'm not sure about music playing all the time - unless the narrator has a roommate who is playing music all the time.
   ~Posted by Douglas, Oct 6, 2007

WOW
Oct 6, 2007
I loved this writing. Maybe because I'm getting closer to being elderly. The part about getting them out to see green grass, flowers, and kids playing in puddles is so important. When my mother was in the nursing home, we tried to be sure that she got out regularly so she didn't forget about this world that she was so much a part of for so many years.
   ~Posted by WOW, Oct 6, 2007

Michael K
Oct 8, 2007
Thanks for the comments! Maybe I'll rework that section about music.
   ~Posted by Michael K, Oct 8, 2007



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