Okay, I've posted this before but every Thanksgiving holiday I read it to remind myself how quick we can forget the people in our life... yes I wrote it.... I've not even titled it ... just something that sprang from my fingers on cold November day several years ago... makes me cry every time I read it
A winkled finger touches the rose
and ivy design on the china plate. Tears
fill her eyes, and she quickly closes them.
Reaching for the handkerchief she always keeps in her sweater pocket,
Labecca wipes the evidence of emotion from her cheek.
Any emotion brought questions, doctors
and medicines to stop you from feeling.
Memories should be allowed to flow because they painted joy, hope and
love into your life. With them your
essence is like a masterpiece painted by an artist; without them you are like a
wisp of smoke waiting to leave.
Labecca looks around her small room
with beige tile on the floor, beige paint on the wall and earth tone bedspread
on the bed. No color! She feels herself fade into the neutral
texture of the room and its nothingness strangles all hope of happiness from
her.
She glances down at the only piece
of china left from her life as a daughter, sister, mother and wife. Every Thanksgiving she had set her wedding
china for her family’s feast. Afterwards
she washed each piece by hand to preserve it for the next annual
tradition. But what happens to tradition
when you’re the only one left?
Carefully placing the plate in the
wire basket attached to her walker, Lebecca struggles to rise and starts the
long walk to the dining area. As she shuffles
down the sterile hallway the sound of children laughing haunts her.
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