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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Visions I glance at my watch and note that it is a little later then usual. I have no schedule, but I know that she will be waiting and wondering where I am. It's Thursday, and as is my practice, I'm at the nursing home. I climb from my car and enter, weaving through the wheelchairs in the hall. I smile at those who look in my direction, though many return my gaze with vacant eyes. I enter her room and offer a cheery greeting. Her face returns it with a smile as she reaches out to grip my hand. I squeeze her fingers and ask how she's been feeling. She says fine, but that is what she always says. At 93, she has her share of problems. She wants to hear about what I've been doing. She listens as I recount my week. We laugh and talk of our families and the old days. She speaks of her husband long deceased. Our conversation flows easily without direction, revealing more about each other then either ever thought they would share. She loves to hear the stories that I tell her, leaning forward as if storing every word. I embellish them to add to her enjoyment, trying to paint a picture with my words. Time passes rapidly as we enjoy each others company, and all too soon it is time that I must go. She asks if I'll be back again next Thursday and I assure her that I will. As I rise to leave the room, she says "thank you for coming. I'll see you next week". As I walk back down the hall, I have to wonder if my visit added any color to her day. It must be hard to live your life in darkness, where the only things you see are what you hear. For just a little while, did we transcend the affliction that has robbed her of her sight. I guess I'll never know for sure, but I know I'll have to try again next week.
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