Paw

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

I call my grandpa but still no answer from his room. Several months have passed and my sister and I are worried. We locate the senior home number and talk to a caretaker. My grandpa’s dementia continues to worsen and my step-grandma passed-away a month ago. It is nine o’clock at night and I drive to a grassy hill overlooking the town lights, a personal sanctuary during times of hardship. It is too late this time. Headlights envelop me and two officers from the nearby ranger station tell me I must leave. They understand I am grieving but I have to do it somewhere else.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

I visit my grandpa at the senior home. I have a surprise for him; an old galvanized bucket from my backyard with two pictures applied to the finish. One picture shows my grandpa gleefully hoisting me up to look at a monster truck. The other is a view of my water garden, the origin of the corkscrew willow and lemon-scented stonecrop planted in the bucket. We clasp the handle and lift the display onto a raised bed outside the facility. He cannot smell the lemon-scent but he points his finger in recognition of our picture. He touches the gravel surface inside the pot and notices a seashell, lifting it to his ear. I tell my grandpa that I’ll be thinking of him while I’m away. We retreat from the one-hundred degree sun, back inside through the windowless door.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Healing Garden Journey Begins...