Friday, March 22, 2013

Margaret's room...

Overflowing pots of pansy faces sunned outside the
French doors to the garden.  Family portraits share my walls with
an oval wicker mirror, a small framed Renoir print faces the hospital bed.
I'm glad when he comes with your dinner tray.... stays to rub your back..
.the bed tray holds the remote, pen and steno pad, books... inhaler....
....a bell to ring..
From the upper corner of the ceiling, forming a triangle,
he nailed strings that cross to my other side, rigging it to a pulley.. with the tug of your finger, a wooden man glides back
and forth...making you smile...

We laugh together watching Johnny Carson...I sing along with you,
Pavarotti and Verdi...I'm used to the the low hum of the oxygen machine...
 24 hour a day...due to COPD...I love it when your daughters arrive
 to keep you company... him a break..a privilege for me to hear those most intimate conversations,
I observe your teary days and nights....listen to your sleep talk dreams..
The top drawer of your dresser, locked with a large skeleton key..
..treasures inside. like to take out and hold...heirloom hankies, cameos,
silver salt spoons...vintage gloves, opera glasses..a miniature ivory telescope with
 the The Lord's Prayer inside..amber dear..a lucky beetle..
A porcelain doll named Patsy sits close by, given to you as a ninth
birthday gift in's ears and toes crusted over time
Antiques your hobby, bridge your game, an avid reader...I never knew such
 a mind used to love to entertain,  you made an exquisite
Queen Charlotte Pudding...
a Girl Scout all your life.. you never hurt a flea..

One time I saw you  fall trying to move to the portable toilet.
..I could not help you...I wanted to scream...I saw you grieve for
yourself..and feared you would suffocate..I don't think anyone
knew better than I how lonely you really were at times.  I longed to hold you closer. be able to say 'it will be o.k'...after all, I've known you 20 years.
Your still pretty legs hung out from freshly washed sheets always thanked the girls for coming..helping you bathe ..
giving you insulin...and you always apologized....
...but it was their turn they said..
I remember the day you stopped eating..the osteoporosis became
unbearable..harder to breathe...he replaced your favorite Tropicana
wilted roses in the vase...kissed you and wished you  'Happy 50th Anniversary'..
...cried uncontrollably.  Your daughter came that grinned...
and you squeezed her hands......the morphine now easing your pain..
.I barely understood your voice so said you liked the
summer hat she were wearing....smiled lovingly...
.quietly I saw you drift into sleep...
.the day you decided.. to say goodbye..I still feel you here inside of me.
always in my heart.

For exercise in speaking as another object or place..I decided on my mother's room.


  1. wow...if only the walls could talk you know...what would they say...what do they see that we dont in our coming and going...and that the room could feel for its when your mother personification of the room...

  2. They say that walls have ears - you've given these walls eyes and a voice too, and what sights they've seen and stories they have to tell. This is really poignant and touching writing - I enjoyed reading it, although there are many notes of sadness in it.

  3. This is quite a story, love the details, the memories of sadness, of happiness and lastly of saying goodbye ~

    A most enjoyable read tonight ~ Have a good weekend ~

  4. A beautiful story, well told. Very nice write, Katy!

  5. Sorry, I can't write much..tears in my eyes (so moving).

  6. oh heck..that moved me to tears...but i'm so glad she was able to go with a smile when she decided many warm and touching fav..We laugh together watching Johnny Carson...I sing along with you,
    Pavarotti and Verdi.....i can imagine the walls of the room vibrate with song...

  7. What a touching story.. and the room can certainly contain much more, and I am sure she was still there within the walls afterwards.

  8. Thanks, Bjorn, and I think I'll change the ending a bit ;)

  9. katy your link over at dVerse seems broken...couldn't find your entry...

  10. My heart is absolutely breaking as I read this.
    I think of my mom.


All comments, constructive and otherwise, are welcome and appreciated here. Thank you to those who show an interest in my quirky style of writing, photography, painting, and presenting a feeling or thought and for stopping by A Dwelling by the Sea..