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Thu, Jan 11, 2018
Celeste and I, returning home today after a free lunch at the Monte Carlo (Prairie Ridge doctors brought patients together to report to one another about knee or hip replacements) and a quick visit to Pick N Save, went first out to the farm to drop off a couple of on-sale Digiorno Pizzas Dad had requested. Just as we pulled up at Dad’s door, a spatter of sleet and BB-sized hail speckled the car. The hail ceased in an instant and melted in a moment, but Celeste stayed in the RAV-4 while I carried the pizzas in and said a quick hello. Dad remarked that his hair was getting shaggy; I promised to cut it soon.
As we got to town, we decided we ought to say another quick hello, this one to Uncle Art at the assisted living place where he is now. On account of C.’s knee surgery we have not been out much these past couple of months and probably had not seen Uncle Art in all that time. His son, my cousin Barry, does spend time with him, though, almost every day. Arthur is ninety-four.
I parked. Backed into a stall across from the entrance. Celeste had said she would go inside with me, but when I stepped out onto the asphalt, I discovered a perfectly slick sheet of black ice. A young guy in a light jacket and no hat was salting the lot, but Celeste thought it best not to risk a fall; I concurred. She sent me in with a pocketful of gold-foil-wrapped oversized hazelnut Hershey Kisses for our chocolate-loving uncle. I left the engine running so she’d have heat.
I found Uncle Art in his room, watching a weather channel on TV. He jumped up from his chair and offered me the good recliner, but I told him I could only say hi and bye and Celeste and I will be back to see him soon. I handed him the fancy Hersheys.
“Uncle Art,” I asked, “do you know who I am?”
“Yes!” he exclaimed. “You are not Barry!”
“That is exactly right!” I agreed. I hugged him and headed home.
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