A short little piece that I wrote in class again.
Have fun with this wee piece of writting.Today, my granddaughter brought me flowers.I smile and she talks.“Remember the music box?”How could I ever forget.“What about that time you bored me half to death with fishing?” We both laugh.Her voice carries across the room in the gentlest manner possible as she reassures me, “everything will be alright.”But then, her smile fades and she grips my hand tighter; now it’s time for me to tell her, “Everything will be alright.”My voice does not carry so well, but she hears it. The heart monitor beeps and boops in a timely fashion; setting a rhythm to the room.Her head lurches forward a little bit.With what strength I have backing me, I brush her hair to one side with my free hand. The long trails of yellow hair sit comfortably behind her ear, unmasking her watery eyes.I smile and stroke the side of her cheek.Her grip on my hand softens until she lets go and smiles back at me.The smile fills my heart with a little vitality and joy; enough to tell her again;“I love you.”A smile, a genuine smile; it’s been awhile since I’ve seen one of those dressed across her face. I push it a little further and make a joke... She laughs with me; the tears don’t seem so apparent and distressing.Soon, a man walks in and sits on the edge of my bed, dressed in a decent suit and even more decent shoes. His smile is soft, gentle and full of something I once had; a man I have not seen in many years.The gentleman puts an arm around the shoulder of the girl; she doesn’t register it, not from him. I tell her that it’s time to go and she drops her head.Grace kisses my cheek and for a moment I feel alive again, but not more than a moment.“I love you.” Grace stands up and walks out, waving with one hand and wiping away her tears with the other.The smell of perfume drifts through the air of the room, covering the smell of morphine and clean away; things are acceptable now. She and the smell linger in the doorway for a few more seconds, before they exit.Sat on the edge of my bed, the man moves down towards my side and holds my hand. The world compresses around him, not much else is visible.My youth stares me in the eyes and looks upon me with happiness and bliss. I say to him;“We did well.”He nods and pulls a cigarette from his pocket. I wink and so does he.Somewhere in the background I can hear a string section performing out. He lights the cigarette with a certain grace only the young at heart possess and with one careful movement, he pops it in his mouth; inhale and exhale.He hands me one.With my left over strength, I place it in my mouth... He ignites it.My lungs draw in the last bit of smoke and it floats over me“I think this is it for us old boy.”His hand sits on my shoulder and I exhale.The strings stop playing.“It’s been a pleasure.”