by Irrira Rikki

Created on: January 23, 2009   Last Updated: November 17, 2011

THE WAITING TIME

When we are kids, time didn't mean more than another day; and if there was something special to look forward to, it seemed to never come. But as we grew older, we looked back, and wondered where on earth the time had gone!

Were our memory banks running out of space to hold any more information; or was it that time was now flying? Either way, one only had to speak with the souls already in nursing homes, and for those who could speak, it was always a memory of their past.

Somewhere between, they must have led so many different lives in places we could only imagine. But it was always the home when they were young which lifted their spirits to recall. Some called it memory lapse; but age has a way of cushioning the end which it's nigh, so it's much more pleasant to fill in the waiting time, with those good old days.

The days before all these new fangled technological things which filled in today's time - usually indoors - instead of the good fresh air in the lungs. When fat meant a strip on a nice cut of meat, and dripping was a tastier and a much cheaper spread, than plastic margarine.

No wonder the kids had forgotten how to cook the real deal now, instead of some kind of art work on a huge plate. Good Lord! Not something you had to search for somewhere in today's platters. 'We had plenty of time in those days' - they would chuckle - 'cooking, baking, filling the cooky jars and cake tins, making jams, sauces, preserving every fruit and veg in season that we could.

Of course we had to cut the wood to keep them fires going in the ovens, but you can't beat those today with all the electricity bills. Then there was washing and ironing; cleaning windows until they squeaked, polishing the floors till they shined, till all the house work was done.

After that, there was feeding the chickens, gathering the eggs. Then collecting what veggies we wanted for dinner from the garden, the watering with a watering can. Pulling out weeds. Finding flowers to place into vases. It kept a woman fit, all that good work! No need for them fancy gyms.'

Well, one had to grant these old souls their pluck and their spirit. It was just about time to rush to catch the bus; but there was Grandpa to check on before getting home - just a block away - and he looked forward to a good old chin wag. He could talk the legs off an iron donkey, but he never lived in tomorrow.

World war two kept calling him back to his duty, when he escaped from that prison camp and two lovely ladies let him hide out for three weeks in their hay loft. Sound's like he had the time of his life there before they helped him over the border, to get back to the safety zone.

His sister asked what he did with the the machine gun once (when she had time to speak,) and he just looked at her and said, 'I aimed the gun Margaret!' Then asked in the next breath what he was supposed to do with the bottle of wine she had so graciously brought. He was not in the now.

It was not nice being shut into a room after owning a home, and just losing his wife. Some things are better left in the waiting queue. Tomorrow would come soon enough - he knew that now he had turned ninety - so there was no future to hang out for now; it would come quick enough.

So let a soul be where they are if they are happy reminiscing. If a ripe old age has been reached; they know a the nursing home doors will not open again for them. Except to leave their weary body behind... they were happier speeding it up with memories which kept them going till then.

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