Excerpt from
“Indelible” (memoir in progress):
It was hard to
watch a man who had once fixed our old van with a screwdriver and a piece of
wire struggle to complete a simple task.
“Honey, put this
light bulb in for me,” I said. Both of us were short, but he still had a height
advantage. The light bulb over the wash machine was just out of my reach, and
my step stool was upstairs.
Jim reached up and
removed the burnt out bulb, but then struggled in his efforts to replace it. He
turned the bulb to the right a few times, then to the left as if he were
working a combination lock.
“Turn it to the
right,” I said. As soon as the words left my lips, I knew it was a worthless
piece of information for someone who no longer knew left from right.
“Turn it like
this,” I said, pantomiming the correct motion.
Jim stood there
holding the bulb like the Statue of Liberty held her torch. His eyes turned
toward me, but they didn’t seem to focus. I could imagine myself as he saw me,
a blurred image making noises that make no more sense than the incessant
chirping of magpies.
I reached out my
hand, “Okay, honey, give me the bulb and I’ll put it in.”
Jim passed the bulb
to me and paused to touch the top of the washer. He wandered off aimlessly, shuffling
to the stairs.
Copyright © December 2016 by L.S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
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