Lifeless? (a short sketch of a story)
Lifeless?
I asked her—“Do you want to go to Peru?” I knew it would be troublesome with her condition, her asthma (as with her allergies, and other symptoms of respiratory; she had smoked cigarettes for 40-years, stopped some 17-years prior) it was getting bad, in any case, she was not walking well either, but I together was years ago, now I had ask her, at 83-years old. The last real vacation we had been on perhaps was back around 1992 or ’93; oh I took her out to the nearby town-let called St. Croix, but that was just a small trip, and to Bayfield, Wisconsin in 1994, about 200-miles from St. Paul, Minnesota (I paid her way to Las Vegas in 1996, but couldn’t go with her, so it wasn’t the same), but this was to her and I not a trip like going to Mexico, or Jamaica, Las Vegas (which we went to several times in the ‘90s). We had fun in Jamaica, in Las Vegas, the last few times she didn’t want to move too much; and Mexico was out of the question, we laughed about our first and last trip there, when the waiter tried to tell us bologna was their style of ham in Mexico, so they could charge us a few more dollars for Ham, and when we ordered the collocate cake in Puerto Vallarta, back in 1985, it was hard as a rock but somehow they convinced us we had to take it, or leave it, but pay for it.
So I felt I had to take her, we had to go, time was of the essence, I’d never get the chance again—I told myself, plus we could I figured out how to do it on the way, take a wheelchair wherever we went perhaps; somehow, someway we could do it. Show her just the city of Lima, no need to go elsewhere, like in the mountains or jungles. Just stay close to our home and show her some museums, and casinos.
“Ok, yes, yes…” she said as if in an exuberant and hasty excitement. It was the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on her face. Then this moment went by, I WAS FRANTIC AND TOLD HER, “Mom I called up an old friend of yours, she wasn’t home, and I got a voice message of yours saying, “…I’ll see you later.” Mom didn’t look at me then, and soon after everything started to fade, like melting ice-cream on a hot summer’s day. Then I opened my eyes, rubbing them, it was a dream, but so real, then it occurred to me, Mom’s been dead going on four years next month.
Note: (DM) 6-3-2007 (a sketch of a story)
I asked her—“Do you want to go to Peru?” I knew it would be troublesome with her condition, her asthma (as with her allergies, and other symptoms of respiratory; she had smoked cigarettes for 40-years, stopped some 17-years prior) it was getting bad, in any case, she was not walking well either, but I together was years ago, now I had ask her, at 83-years old. The last real vacation we had been on perhaps was back around 1992 or ’93; oh I took her out to the nearby town-let called St. Croix, but that was just a small trip, and to Bayfield, Wisconsin in 1994, about 200-miles from St. Paul, Minnesota (I paid her way to Las Vegas in 1996, but couldn’t go with her, so it wasn’t the same), but this was to her and I not a trip like going to Mexico, or Jamaica, Las Vegas (which we went to several times in the ‘90s). We had fun in Jamaica, in Las Vegas, the last few times she didn’t want to move too much; and Mexico was out of the question, we laughed about our first and last trip there, when the waiter tried to tell us bologna was their style of ham in Mexico, so they could charge us a few more dollars for Ham, and when we ordered the collocate cake in Puerto Vallarta, back in 1985, it was hard as a rock but somehow they convinced us we had to take it, or leave it, but pay for it.
So I felt I had to take her, we had to go, time was of the essence, I’d never get the chance again—I told myself, plus we could I figured out how to do it on the way, take a wheelchair wherever we went perhaps; somehow, someway we could do it. Show her just the city of Lima, no need to go elsewhere, like in the mountains or jungles. Just stay close to our home and show her some museums, and casinos.
“Ok, yes, yes…” she said as if in an exuberant and hasty excitement. It was the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on her face. Then this moment went by, I WAS FRANTIC AND TOLD HER, “Mom I called up an old friend of yours, she wasn’t home, and I got a voice message of yours saying, “…I’ll see you later.” Mom didn’t look at me then, and soon after everything started to fade, like melting ice-cream on a hot summer’s day. Then I opened my eyes, rubbing them, it was a dream, but so real, then it occurred to me, Mom’s been dead going on four years next month.
Note: (DM) 6-3-2007 (a sketch of a story)
Labels: 2006, Poet and writer of the Year for the Mandaro Valley of Peru
posted by Dennis and Rosa Siluk at 10:26 AM
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