The Nights are Worst

Despite the comfort of her home a grey-haired senior sits alone reflecting on her life’s long road the joys and sorrows once bestowed. It’s not as though her life’s severe although the pain in joints and fear at night are constant testament to her advancing years. Her days are full and she attends arranged activities, and friends stop by to pass the time and help hold back the solitude. Her parents passed, her spouse passed too, her siblings gone, she can’t renew old friendships, they are gone as well, its hard to make new friends. Two sons she bore and nurtured ‘til maturity but worries still, though there is little she can do for them at this late date. Her children visit when they can, the elder, almost daily, and he maintains the house and car, though not as promptly as she’d like. She understands, each has his life to live as they see fit, but strife occurs with some harsh words exchanged when needs for independence clash. The loss of independence stings, brought home by far too many things like cutting lawns or washing floors or walking with her dog. She loses strength and balance too, she loses friends who are too few. Perhaps the worst of growing old, is unrelenting loss. She counts her blessings every night and they are manifold, but slight comfort from her melancholy thoughts when she’s alone. Old memories, so treasured when they’re shared with family and friends are bittersweet when seen alone, her loved ones long since gone. Her bible and her dog are there as constant friends against despair that some nights threaten to o’rwhelm her in her solitude. The morning brings a lighter heart, she can look forward to her part in random acts of kindness to unsuspecting strangers. To those with greater need than hers small kindnesses she does confer and gives pleasure to her neighbours by accepting help herself. And who’s to say she does not play a role of greatness every day by bringing kindness to the life of others.
© David E. Moon, 2014 All rights reserved

The Nights are Worst

Despite the comfort of her home a grey-haired senior sits alone reflecting on her life’s long road the joys and sorrows once bestowed. It’s not as though her life’s severe although the pain in joints and fear at night are constant testament to her advancing years. Her days are full and she attends arranged activities, and friends stop by to pass the time and help hold back the solitude. Her parents passed, her spouse passed too, her siblings gone, she can’t renew old friendships, they are gone as well, its hard to make new friends. Two sons she bore and nurtured ‘til maturity but worries still, though there is little she can do for them at this late date. Her children visit when they can, the elder, almost daily, and he maintains the house and car, though not as promptly as she’d like. She understands, each has his life to live as they see fit, but strife occurs with some harsh words exchanged when needs for independence clash. The loss of independence stings, brought home by far too many things like cutting lawns or washing floors or walking with her dog. She loses strength and balance too, she loses friends who are too few. Perhaps the worst of growing old, is unrelenting loss. She counts her blessings every night and they are manifold, but slight comfort from her melancholy thoughts when she’s alone. Old memories, so treasured when they’re shared with family and friends are bittersweet when seen alone, her loved ones long since gone. Her bible and her dog are there as constant friends against despair that some nights threaten to o’rwhelm her in her solitude. The morning brings a lighter heart, she can look forward to her part in random acts of kindness to unsuspecting strangers. To those with greater need than hers small kindnesses she does confer and gives pleasure to her neighbours by accepting help herself. And who’s to say she does not play a role of greatness every day by bringing kindness to the life of others.
© David E. Moon, 2014 All rights reserved