Saturday, May 1, 2010

When age matters, when it doesn't

Sheri observed, when age doesn’t matter.

Talking to me when I’m in another room. • Iris cut from the yard, arranged in a delft vase. • Spooning: “You’re breathing on the back of my neck.” • One of her thumbs is shorter than the other, by a third. • The honest grin she can’t help when the dogs stare at her. • This past month, studying Solzhenitsyn, fascinated by the guy. • Today’s newspapers, with coffee. • Wanting summer. • The socks left behind the bathroom door. • Fingers deep in dirt, making a new home for petunias, pansies, lettuce, basil, hydrangeas, tulips. • Gin and tonic! • Swam three-quarters of a mile yesterday. • Balancing the check book, but why seventeen cents off! • “I’ll let you” as in “I’m finished with the dusting. I’ll let you vacuum.” • Napping, with a basketball game in the background. • Strawberries and yogurt and granola in bed. • Editing my blog post: “This doesn’t make any sense.” • The comfort of her voice in another room.

Sheri observed, when it does:

At the grocery store, without drugstore reading glasses, can’t see to work the self-checkout. It’s the first time. • Impatience with TV beer commercials because their narratives “make no sense.” • Wants to put movies on our Netflix queue from AARP’s list of “Movies for Grownups.” • Shoulder still sore, more than a year after the fall. • The future? That’s twenty good years. What do you do with that? • Cold comfort: The old person discounts at movie theaters and museums. • Bouncing her grand niece in her lap. • Last week, said, “I want to live in a comfortable house before I die.”

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