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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Green (10/22/09)
He always had mixed feelings about his visits. Though he did everything he could to drive out the feelings of isolation and abandonment, he knew that when he left those feelings were bound to return. But always try! And a well placed whoopee cushion is always its own reward, especially when the head nurse is the victim du jour.

As the folks whose hearing was still acute described the moment to friends who had to imagine the noise, the nurse glowered at him over the top of her glasses, getting fully into the spirit of his gag. She snatched up an idle cane and shook it at the young man in grease paint, sunflower boutonniere, and Cat in the Hat hat. He reacted with shock and pantomimed an apology, at which point she began chasing him down the hall, much to the delight of the residents.

“Thanks for the help,” he said once they were out of view of the lounge.

“Anything…almost anything…to hear them laugh,” she said and handed over the whoopee cushion. “Before you leave, could you spend some time with Borballa? She’s had a really bad week.”

“Frustration over memory loss?” he asked, already familiar with Borballa’s relationship with Alzheimer’s.

“Yes, but she’s always happy to see you. She always seems to remember the ‘boy with the funny face’.”

“I do tend to leave an impression,” he said and headed down the hall toward a particular room.

“Barbara?” he asked as he poked his head through the door, knowing that Borballa was the Serbo-Croatian equivalent of Barbara and that the American version was preferred. He slowly entered and saw the old woman rocking back and forth in her chair staring silently out her window. He approached making no effort to hide his presence, yet she seemed oblivious to his being there. And as he observed her look of abject sorrow, he knew this was a time to be quietly there rather than try and force a mood by being his usual boisterous self.

With head cocked slightly to the right, he sat next to her on the radiator with his own sad face on. After a moment, Barbara turned his direction and her face brightened a bit.

“There you are. I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too. Are you enjoying the Fall colors?”

Barbara seemed to consider her answer for a few seconds and then sadly shook her head. “No. It’s a sad and horrible thing. See that branch over there? It was green until yesterday. Today it was yellow, tomorrow it will be orange, then red, then brown, and then it will be bare. It makes me sad. And sometimes it frightens me.”

As she pulled a tissue free of the box and tabbed her eyes, he looked at the colorful trees in a new light. Barbara wasn’t seeing them for their explosion of color but as a metaphor for her own life, mind and memory. The colors of her memory were changing on a daily basis; bits and pieces of the tapestry in her head were dropping out, and the thought of a leafless tree being buffeted by the coming winter winds terrified her.

“Dear Touchstone, what is to become of me when even this offers me no comfort?” she asked and handed him a well wore book.

The Cyrillic lettering made the text unintelligible, but the layout as divided into chapter and verse clearly identified it as a Bible. Here was a side of dementia that he had never considered before. What happens when you can no longer remember your faith? Surely the salvation God gives can withstand the ravages of Alzheimer’s, but a theological point by point would do Barbara no good in the coming days. He needed an image. A quick scan of the room gave him nothing that wouldn’t eventually slip away. But out the window, in a field beyond the parking lot of the nursing home, was an image that just might take hold if he presented it right. As he considered possible presentations, he decided there was only one way to play it. Over the top.

With many an exaggerated gesture, he drew her attention to a lone pine tree in the middle of the field. As she puzzled over the significance of the tree, he pointed out that God’s memory was evergreen. Her memory may fail her, but God would remember and bring a Spring when the colors of the leaves would never change.
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This article has been read 925 times
Member Comments
Member
Date
Ruth Brown
10/29/09
"God's memory is evergreen."
What a lovely thought.
Touching story that may help others dealing with the same.
Very well told.
Patricia Protzman
10/29/09
Touching story. I worked many years with Alzheimer's residents and their families. There are many sad and pitiful people. Well told.
Carol Penhorwood 
10/30/09
How I loved this! My father-in-law just died a few months ago of Alzheimer's. Well done.
Charla Diehl
10/30/09
How beautifully you worded this poignant story as you pointed your reader towards the evergreen nature of God. I hope to see this deserving entry with a blue ribbon.
Mary McLeary
10/30/09
I had never realized that my sweet mother-in-law would not remember her faith, but we know He holds her. Excellent story.
Mark Bell
10/31/09
nicely done. very real. (wipes away tear) thank you for sharing.
Brenda Rice
11/02/09
Wonderful! I enjoyed every word of this. God's memory is evergreen and His love will comfort when no human can. He never forgets our faith. Thanks for writing this and I hope you win.
Lyn Churchyard
11/11/09
This sentence stood out... he pointed out that God’s memory was evergreen. Her memory may fail her, but God would remember and bring a Spring when the colors of the leaves would never change. Well done, Bill. Wonderfully written.