Assisted Living by Sarah Castellanos

A vivid picture remains painted across my mind, and memories of yesterday remain gnawing at my heart today. I saw the sweat glisten from their foreheads, little beads of sweat trickled past their eyes. Walking across a small room exerted too much energy for their weak bodies, to the point that their minds consider it exercise.

An IV stuck in her arm, the continuous beeping of her heart monitor echoed in my ears. The vibrant green line reaching its highest point, and then dramatically plummeting. "BINGO," She screamed. Everything else in her life faded, memories have vanished, and names can no longer be connected to faces. But, bingo is something that she has yet to forget.

A wicker chair sat in the corner of the lobby, with a heavy set man planted firmly on it. His head was tilted back, with his lips slightly parted, a low grumble escaped through his throat. The skin below his eyes were weighed down from years of experience. I watched his chest rise and fall until he lifted himself out of the chair and stumbled across the hall to the woman's room.  He bent down, and gave her a delicate kiss on her pale forehead.

" I love you Aila," he whispered in her ear before exiting the room and going back to the wicker chair.

I glanced behind me, "Mommy, why are those people cracking?" I heard a small girl speak.

I listened to the mother explain to her daughter that they were not cracking, and it's called aging.

"Aged like parmesan cheese?" she spoke innocently with a smile on her face.

"No Honey,"she sighed, "they have just lived long lives."

"Then why is that woman putting on crackle cream?" The girl pointed strongly at a woman applying lotion to her face. Her mother put a finger to her lip on told her daughter that it was not polite to point at people, the little girl apologized and walked away with her mother.

A small boy wearing blue trousers walked through the door holding his mother's hand. They placed their umbrellas on the right side of the door, and started walking towards me. The small boy halted mid-step and bent down with a shocked expression, releasing a girlish squeal.

"Oh no!,"  he gasped, after straightening his body, "Grandmommy lost one of her bobby pins, she needs it for her collection!"

He ran to the wicker chair , and without slowing down he jumped into the man's lap. His cheeks jiggled as he jumped from fear, "Oh hello darling, Grandpa has missed  you!"

" Grandmommy dropped this! Where is she?," he said raising the bobby pin to his grandfathers face.

He lifted his finger and unsteadily pointed to the room across the hall. The mothers face sunk as she saw her mother lying nearly life-less on top of the sheets.

"Grandmommy!," he yelled as he lifted his hands to her face, "Mommy she's sleeping!"

Young children can't grasp the concept of aging and as my grandmother always says, "never grow old, for you feel like you are held captive in a body that cannot move."