Words- just words.
All around, the scenery has shifted.
A cold wind has blown in.
All the colours have changed now.
Winter will come soon with her killing frost.
Old men shake and tremor.
Toddlers kiss and cuddle.
There are no words.
Dad is 84. He has seen the better part of all his friends die. Some whose minds had died years before. He trembles now, over his young son, dying in a body aged eons beyond his calendar years. A son whose mind has betrayed him.
All those years I worked in nursing homes. I used to imagine having to care for my father that way-- guiding the urinal, rubbing his boney back. Never once could I have known how cruel life would be to a brother four years my senior.
My dad looks young to me now.
Looks like he could live forever.
And that makes this cruelty ever more austere.