Although she was sure she had at some point during the night she had fallen asleep, Leta
felt weary when she rose early. A steady rain had fallen through the night, but
the clouds cleared to allow the sun to sweeten the morning. Leta grunted as she
climbed out of bed, then dragged herself toward the bathroom. She had felt this
achy and tired before—after one of her all-night escapades when she was a much
younger woman. But this was different. She realized that when she caught a
glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her gray hair, the wrinkles, the slouch, the
circles under her eyes and the drawn lips reminded her that she was old. For a moment, she wished that she did not
recognize herself, but she knew herself enough to realize that she was 78 and old.
She dressed and tidied herself, had coffee and toast and
took a short walk in her neighborhood. Her hair was still disastrous, so she
wore a headscarf. By this time, her neighbors were stirring. The earliest
workers were getting in their cars. One of them waved as he drove away. A
retired gentleman who lived down the block was fussing with his prize roses
which had been beaten slightly by the night’s rain. He nodded as Leta walked
by. Several front drapes and windows
flew open as she passed. Everyone wanted to welcome the cool morning air before
the heat of the summer day burned in. A half an hour later, as she returned to
her own apartment, small groups of young children were playing around their
homes, their voices gurgling like brooks. Most of them basically ignored her,
but on occasion one would take a hard look at her, which she didn’t
acknowledge.
Her life was changing, and she needed to accept that.
It was Friday, and she knew Vivian’s routine. First, she
would get up and put the coffee on, fix breakfast for herself and her husband,
get him off to work and then clean up the kitchen, make the bed and tidy the
bedroom. Once she finished, she would dress herself, finish her shopping list
and then head out to get her hair done and go to the supermarket, bank, drug
store and any other errands she needed to run. This was the first Friday of the
month, so Vivian and Ed would have their card club in the evening. If Vivian
was hosting, she would need to clean the basement recreation room and prepare
the group’s snacks. Her grandchildren, being out of school for the summer and
living only four blocks away, might appear in the afternoon for a visit and a
snack. Even though she was busy, Vivian would spend thirty minutes to an hour
with them before shooing them back home.
Vivian’s busy day gave Leta only a brief window to telephone
and share her decision. She would accept the offer to move into the Methodist
senior residence, even though it was farther away from her family, and prepare
herself for the move and subsequent alteration of her life.
However, Vivian telephoned her instead.
“Good morning, Ma.”
“Vivian? I was going to call you this morning,” Leta said.
“Is everything all right?” Vivian asked.
“I’m fine,” Leta answered. “I didn’t sleep well, but I’m
fine.”
“Well, I have some news that should help you sleep better,”
Vivian said. “Mrs. Darling from Little Sisters just called me. A place has
opened up, and she offered it to you, if you’d like it.”
Leta felt a rush of warmth through her body, like a first
caress. It filled her with energy and eagerness. Nothing else mattered but
this, and she took a moment to enjoy it before responding. She had not realized
how much she wanted to move into the Roman Catholic location, only minutes from
Vivian and her family, until that moment.
“Ma?”
“Yes, darling,” Leta said. “Yes, please call her back and
tell her we accept.”
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