When you were young

I look forward to any day.

As I drove into the driveway, my mind was filled with frivilous thoughts. I turned the key, and sat for a moment in silence. My breathe, my hands clutching the steering wheel, the chill of fall.
I stepped out of the Jeep and closed the door, running my hands along the hood at I walked towards the front porch steps. There were patches of light, fading through the overcast sky, the falling leaves, oranges, reds, yellows, bits of sunshine that had escaped and silently faded to earth I paused for a moment before knocking, and then rang the doorbell.
A large friendly woman let me inside. "You must be the nurse.", I said. She told me I was handsome, and I smiled out of politness. The kitchen smelled exactly as I remembered, the scent of flowers, bread, and the energy of one thousand ancient stories. Memories of my youth came back to me for a fleeting instant - memories of laughter and food and music. The nurse motioned for me to follow her, she led me through the kitchen, down a hall, and into a bedroom. I walked to the door, the nurse winked at me and left. The room was empty except for a nightstand, a small cabinet, a window, and a bed. The light was fluttering in through white curtains, giving the walls a soft glow and a peace. The room's silent serenity was only broken by the slow wisper of the breathing machine, and heart monitors.
I stood alone in the doorway, motionless - my thoughts abandoned me. I could feel my heart thump in my chest; my eyes began to water. I took a deep breathe.
She lay there in front of me, her eyes closed, her tiny frail body, weaker and smaller than I would ever dare imagine. She was eighty-six years old, but she could have been three hundred - I noticed every wrinkle and every delicate mark on her face. Her head was on a soft lime green pillow, and a white blanket lay over her body - I could see the outline of her thin limbs. There were tubes running into her nose, and an few bandages taped to her arms. Her viens were deep and blue, her skin a pale white, she had no makeup, and I could see every year of her age. She must have heard me standing there, because her eyes opened ever so slightly and she smiled at me - every so slightly. I took a step forward and returned the smile, desperately trying to conceal my wet eyes. I had intended to be lighthearted. I had intended to say something charming and funny. I had intended to give her a good hug and play her a song. foolish intentions. All I could do was stand beside her - looking into her pale eyes, lost in the ocean of their blue. "Hi.", I said, in almost a wisper. It was all I could get out. My great-aunt had just undergone an intensive surgery. Because of her weak heart and frail body, she was not expected to make it out of the hospital alive, much less, make it back here to her own bed.
As I stood there, my brain sparked with a million different thoughts. I wanted to asked her a thousand things, questions about life, and birth, and questions about fragile truths, and sunshine, and warmth, and about the leaves falling outside her window. I wanted to know what she loved, and who she loved, and what she would do again, and what she would never do again. I said nothing.
She looked up into my eyes, and held out her tiny fading hand - I took it gently into mine. Her hand wrapped around my fingers, she grasped as if never to let go. Her palm was warm. It was a grasp that had emotion, it had passion and absolute peace. I felt her true self, the young, vibrant woman held captive inside this frail, fading body - I felt life itself; the energy of the soul. I returned the squeeze. We stayed there for hours, or days, or seconds - I do not know which. We shared the moment as humans, as the same human. Finally her grasp weakened, and her let her fingers rest on the back of my hand - she caressed me with delicate strokes. She touched my hand as if she had never felt skin before, or had suddenly discovered a beauty that had long been forgotten. I will never forget the softness, the frailness and the affection.
The nurse returned to the room. She smiled broadly, and as she checked a chart, she asked, "Are you looking forward to the day you can walk again?". There was absolute silence for a few moments - then the slow and almost inaudible reply: "I look forward to any day.". She squeezed my hand again as the words left her lips.

My heart thumped in my chest. Here in this tiny bedroom, I found incredible truth. Here was my great-aunt, so helpless and fragile and old, her life at its end - and she had discovered something more beautiful than all the youth in the world. In her condition of having nothing, she had realized the absolute, fleeting gift of the moment! No longer are there appointments, or walking, or ambitions, or swimming, or cars, or jewelry, or elegance, or poverty, or disgrace, or embarassment, or pride. Everything that she once believed important has been replaced by the simplicity of the undeserved day. I was holding a person that had nothing to live for except life itself. How precious is each second to her? How treasured the warmth of ordinary?

To look forward to any day. If I could hold that in my hand - I would never let it go.





(Andrew Tipton)