Goodbye

THE ROAD TRAVELED

 

Don't ask. I'll tell you. I have my own reasons why I am not buying a new dress for an up-coming special occasion. First of all, I have a closet full of dresses, coats that I've had few chances to wear. Second, if I go shopping, I'll have to ask a favor so somebody will drive me to the mall and wait for me, bring me home or I could try to hail a cab. Ha, I do not look like a good tipper and am passed over time and again.  My driver's license was revoked some time ago. Ergo, I'll shop in my closet.

 

A 'surprise' is surely awaiting me two nites before my 100th birthday. My great-great granddaughter has invited me to a quiet dinner with the immediate family–that gives me a count of at least forty. I am dressed nicely, simply, as I've always done. Gloria's house is lit in what seems a normal manner. She leaves the car in the driveway and walks inside the house in front of me. No sooner do I get into the foyer than out comes a procession that snakes thru the entire ground floor. Sparklers twinkle, an accordionist plays songs I remember from way back when. Gloria leads as the off key group sings 'Happy Birthday, Celia' I believe my feigning surprise works. I pretend I am about to faint and accept help to the club room. The master dining room chair has been turned into a Queen's throne and I am the queen. I am fawned over, hugged until my body aches in places it never ached before. Presents pile around my feet. Envelopes with donations to my favorite charities stack up so I can thank my family and friends later in the evening. Waitresses dressed in old time clothes, bonnets on their long blond hair, are kept busy. Looking around at family I have never gotten to know I see empty spaces where others have already gone, widows, widowers, we are all here for a given length of time and are glad we don't know the cut off date.

 

I am really tired but can't leave, yet am able to find my way to Gloria's bedroom without being noticed. Her bedroom door is partially open, or partially closed. I go in and lie down on her bed. The gaiety downstairs dims in my ears. My eyes close slowly. My breath gets more shallow. I see no one but know that the door is closing. Darkness covers me. A soft voice from perhaps an angel tells me to stay calm. Sweat covers my face as I lie there and wait, just wait. I cannot open my eyes  at all but I can still think, think about the good life I have had, the time I was given to be here.  My lips are dry.

 

 Whispering 'Thank you, Lord,' I go to sleep and hear no more from the family downstairs.