I'm going to deviate today, because I can, (there is no blog boss as far as I know). So forgive me for this but well just read on and you will see. One of my jobs takes me past the door of a lady who has had a severe stroke. She is always in her chair and nine times out of ten her husband is in the chair beside her reading the newspaper, keeping his immobilized wife company. I always say hello and when he is there I get a reply, otherwise not.
It never fails to touch me, the mans obvious devotion to his wife; present in the way his chair is close, the blanket on her knees, a drink by her side, his expression is serene, his small glances at his wife, furtive. There is something about the whole scene that resonates with me.
My mind often wanders for the next minute or so once I am past their door. I think on what their lives were like when they were young as I am now, I imagine them dancing, laughing, hoping and wishing, him handsome, her beautiful. Yes, I am creating an ideal, I am filling in the gaps with wishful thinking and air brushing their lives. I know, but for a moment I really can see it and it is wonderful and it makes me smile. We all need imaginings, lands at the back of cupboards and fairies at the bottom of the garden.
Today was like any other and I was going past their door, he was absent, she was in her chair. The blanket, the glass, the vacant, far away look of one who can't quite grasp onto the thing they once held close. I said hello and she raised her arm. She raised her arm with such defiant effort that I was struck with wonder, pain, and the joy of it all. Change #8….A deviation.
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