Chapter One
Ivy stood outside the door of the nursing home and
waited. She waited for her spinning head
to clear. She waited for her breathing
to even out. She waited for her hands to
stop shaking. It happened each time she came
here – the heart palpitations and shortness of breath. She wondered if she would ever get over the
feeling of loss when there was no loss as of yet. Each and every time she needed to give
herself a pep talk before she went in.
“I’m a grown woman. I can handle
this. I can do it.” Then she took a deep breath, and putting her
own feelings of hopelessness aside, she placed one foot in front of the other
and walked in.
The lobby was bright and cheerful. Fall decorations of leaves and mums lined the
bulletin board, announcing the week’s activities; Crochet and Knitting Club on
Monday at 9:30; Bingo on Tuesday and Thursday at 3:00; a Sing-a-long in the
cafeteria at 2:00 on Wednesday; Wheelchair Volleyball on Friday at 10 a.m., and
a Fish-fry on Friday at 5 p.m.
All-in-all it was a wonderful place.
Gone were the odorous smells of old-folks homes as in days past. This home smelled like soap and air freshener. The nurses and aides were always smiling,
happily bringing cheer to each room as they entered. They called each patient ‘honey’ or ‘sweetie’
and never seemed to tire of helping those in need. In Ivy’s opinion they were God’s angels on
Earth.
Ivy walked the hallway toward room 206 and she greeted each
person she passed. Some were in
wheelchairs, while others moved slowly with walkers, most likely getting in the
required steps for the day. She greeted
Mrs. Moore who blew her a kiss each time she, or anyone else, passed by. Then there was Mr. Barnes, a long-time
resident, who always asked her the score of the Detroit Lions game, even when
it was no longer football season. A few
residents didn’t seem to know where they were at all; they sat quietly in a
perpetual doze, wrapped in blankets as their heads lolled forward. But no matter what the level of alertness,
each resident was treated with respect and given the dignity they deserved
after living a long life, and being contributing members to society.
Ivy stopped in front of the door she was seeking, took a
deep breath, and with a quick knock, entered.
Her grandmother was in a tilt-back chair, watching game shows, her feet
propped up on the raised footstool. Ivy
always felt awkward at this point, not wanting to disturb her grandmother’s TV. How she longed for the days when her Nana’s
face would light up as she entered the room.
“Hello, Dear. How was your day?”
she would say every day after school.
And then later, “Ivy, darling.
How are you? Is everything okay
at work? Tell me about it.” Her never-ending patience as she listened to
Ivy’s tales and woes always amazed her.
Since she was an only child and her mother had died at a young age, her
grandmother, a widow already, had moved in and helped her father raise
her. Olivia had become a mother and a
grandmother all rolled up into one. Maybe,
Ivy often thought, if she hadn’t had so much attention showered upon her, she
wouldn’t feel so angry at times at how things were now. She had chastised herself many times about
her disappointment in her grandmother.
‘How dare she, leave me like this, with no one to talk to except GG,’
she would think, but immediately after, she would feel selfish and immature.
Olivia Morton was Ivy’s grandmother on her father’s
side. Her father, Thomas, was living in
Los Angeles now and rarely came to see his own mother. Ivy understood that he had a job, a new wife,
and other children – young children, but she never understood why he ignored
his mother the way he did. He said it
was too hard, seeing her like this – he couldn’t handle it. Well, it was hard on Ivy, too, but someone
had to show up once in a while and make sure she was taken care of. So she did what she always did each visit, she
put on a big smile, and called out loudly, “Nana, it’s me. Ivy.
How are you this morning?”
The old woman raised her cloudy grey eyes, and looking
straight at Ivy, she said, “Who? Who are
you, now?”
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