The Visit

So long ago. So much has changed. He lifted his eyes from the picture frame on his lap to the distant panorama of the city. The buildings looked like tombstones, all grey against a mottled sky, differentiated only by some architect's zeal.

He looked at the picture again, caressing the image with arthritic fingers. A tear blurred his vision, and he sniffed with self admonition. The halcyon days are gone, he reflected, but oh weren't they wonderful; the youthful exuberance, the fanciful imaginings . . .

The promises we made - he chuckled and muttered the words from the song they had danced to at school proms, and a flood of visions from those burgeoning years brought on another irritating sniffle. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

The house phone rang and he answered, advised that he had a visitor on the way up. Standing the frame back on the table beside him, he stood with a grunt and shuffled to the door. Her smile had him straightening his back, and he stepped forward to embrace her and usher her inside.

She glanced at the photograph and smiled then sat, patting the cushion beside her as an invitation. He didn't need one really, and seated himself quickly beside her. Holding her hand, he swam in her eyes, enraptured.

Jerking awake with a start, realizing he had dozed. The picture frame had slipped down beside him, and he picked it up gazing with overwhelming affection at the image. A fresh feeling of renewal stirred his sedentary brain and he smiled, tapping the picture with his finger.

"Thank you for the visit, my love . . . I miss you too."

❤❤❤

Reverie

The hour hand seemed to drag itself around the clock face as he waited with growing impatience. He knew she was coming, and he knew she wasn't late; she enjoyed dinner and dancing the same as he did. It was the waiting, the anticipation, and his own fault for being ready so much ahead of time.

They would have their favourite table in the corner of the atrium near the giant ficus tree with a view of the immaculate grounds behind the hotel. The dance band would be along the opposite wall in their blue and white jackets, playing slow, dreamy music while the diners enjoyed their meals.

He stared at the clock again and sighed. Not long now.

They would have a glass of Merlot, and a plate of the hotel's famous honey drizzled Brie on seasoned cracker bread as a starter, while they listened to the band's female singer.

Dinner would then be ordered and while they waited, a turn around the floor in a slow foxtrot. She would be as light as air, matching each step flawlessly, even when he stumbled. They would be close, warm . . . intimate.

The hour struck six and he glanced to the door with expectation. It opened and she entered, smiling,and coming directly to him, bending down and remarking how bright he looked. Then she unlocked the wheels of his chair and steered him back through the door, and down the corridor to the elevator.

"We're going out for dinner tonight and dancing too."

"Are you, well that sounds wonderful. I bet you make all the ladies jealous."

"Only one lady I'm interested in." He looked about as he was wheeled into the large room filled with diners.

"I have a place for you right at this table here by the window; you can sit with all your friends."

"You'll show her where I am when she gets here?"

"Of course. Meanwhile, you start on that soup course and enjoy the music and the company."

********

"Is he going dancing again tonight?"

"Yes. And out for dinner too."

They must really have had a nice time together back then. Kind of makes me wish I could have been there."

"Kind of makes me wish he could be there again."

The two caregivers watched him glance at the wall clock then return to eating his soup.