Walking the late night halls of a retirement community.
—
There is a time when you are part of a community. And then there is a time when you no longer are. For others, the images below might depict stillness and isolation. For me, I can not look at them without seeing the faces of the people who I knew there. Of Carl, and George and Walter and Eddie. Of Neva, cheerful and puzzled. Of Phyllis and the other ladies who worked in the dining hall. Of the bridge club. Of the women in our cluster of apartments; their faces turned away; knowing and the going on. Of leaving.
My time with them sits like a stone on my heart; sweet and impossibly heavy. Such compassion and beauty. Such silence.
I wish I could stay with them and go on talking. Walking that slow walk. Be in their prayers and beside them at the table. More coffee? Yes, more coffee, please.
I miss them.