Wrinkles
17 May 2006
It’s early morning I’m feeling those early morning blues you get from getting up at 5:30am. We’re at the old peoples home again. As I said before I don’t mind this work.
She’s old with a friendly crinkled face and aged lines that makeup tries to hide. I decide this is going to be a good conversation. The room has a slight old musty smell, a combination of mothballs, old woolen jumpers and potpourri. The room has pictures of grandkids graduating and little trinkets and ornaments.
“Had a busy morning?” I start.
“Not really” Wrinkles says her crinkles lifting into a smile. I shift the window to where I’m about to clean it.
“Been here long?” I continue, soaping up the window pane.
“Since my second husband died” she says, with a slightly emotional tone. I sense she wants to talk more about this so the journalist in me kicks into gear.
“That’s horrible. What happened?”
“Well my first husband was working for the Hydro and got electrocuted out on a job. We had just had our third child. I think she was eight months old.”
I’m not looking at her as she speaks but I sense tenseness in her voice that speaks of the hurt and pain of the event must have caused. This is just awful I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. I move clean the next window. Time ticks by.
“So when did you remarry?” I ask bravely.
“Well a few years later I met this lovely man he got along really well with our kids. So I married him. It was important that they had a good father figure to bring them up. After that we adopted three more.”
“Yeah I agree with you. Fathers are pretty important in families.”
“My father was a really great man” She continues “He and my mother had been married for just 3 months and when lost both his arms in an accident. I never heard him complain not even once.”
I move into Wrinkles' bedroom to clean the last window. I start to think of how difficult this must have been, for them. The bread winner with a horrible disability. No arms! That would have really sucked. He couldn’t have cleaned windows. Heath care and wouldn’t have been anywhere near as good as it is now.
“I never heard my mother complain once either. She just accepted it and brought us up as best she could. Back in those days people really stuck by each other. It really was death till you part.”
I ponder this as I look at the faded photographs of days gone by. There is one of when she got married. The smiles of the bride and groom are vibrant. They look happy. So happy they jump out of the photo frame and warm the corners of my mouth into a smile.
“Are you married?” Wrinkles says, suddenly turning the conversation back to me.
“No” I say with a firm matter of factness that comes from two broken relationships.
“Well if you do, really look for someone who will stick by you even when the going gets tough.”
“Thanks for the advice,” I reply, rising to leave the small unit that has been home to our conversation. “Oh and thanks for the chat too.”
“Thanks for cleaning the windows” She says, the warm smile from the photo creeping over her face.
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Hey, Mike, great post. You write really well.
"Well if you do, really look for someone who will stick by you even when the going gets tough.”
agreed!