Open Window

Life awaits

Nurse Mills rushed into the room, changed a bag of something, then rushed back out without saying a word. A feeble old man with "Roger Tanner" on his wristband watched her come and go, just as he did all the nurses and medical staff.

I may as well be a potted plant to her. Not friendly, that one, but why should she be? She doesn't know me, doesn't see the man I used to be. I'm a withering old hulk that has to be tended to night and day, just so I can die next month instead of tomorrow. When you've been around for as long as I have, what difference does it make?

Cough!

With some effort, Roger reached for a cup of ice water and brought it to his lips.  

Sippy straws. I would've enjoyed drinking through this when I was five, but now it's just a damned embarrassment.

A girl rolled a big, awkward-looking cart into the room and said, "Mr. Tanner, I've got to take your vitals."

"Oh, alright. Be sure to let me know if my heart has stopped--okay?"

She grinned slightly and replied, "I'll be sure to do that." Three minutes later, she finished her business and rolled on out of the room.

She's cute. I could've gone for a girl like that when I was 21. Yeah, stupid me, I'd have only seen her good looks and not noticed that she had a personality like a bedpan.

Roger saw a bit of blue sky through the nearby window, and sighed.

Now, that nurse, Becky--she's different. Most of these nurses are witches, but she's an angel. As horrible as I feel, a visit from her lights a spark and makes me want to get up from this bed and fly like an eagle. Heh-heh, yeah, that's what she does.

Roger looked at his wrinkled, withered, liver-spotted hand.

I never thought It'd be like this. I used to look at old people and think they aged totally, throughout both mind and body. I thought that as their physical form wasted, so, too, their thoughts became dull and void of feeling. I couldn't have been more wrong.

Full of drugs and his organs failing, Roger drifted off into a deep sleep. Doctors and nurses monitored his rapid downward spiral. "He's getting very low," one of them said. There'd soon be an empty bed, they knew.

Roger felt a soft hand on his forehead. Opening his eyes, he saw Becky, hovering over him and smiling. She wore a black, pointy hat and had a fake wart stuck on her nose.

"Wake up, Mr. Sleepy-head. Time for your meds."

"Well, hello, young lady!" said Roger, almost sitting up. "I dreamt I was flying."

"Flying? My, goodness." replied Becky. "Maybe you don't need these pills!"

Gazing at the lovely girl, he inquired, "Why are you dressed like that?"

"It's Halloween, Roger. Don't you remember Halloween?"

"Oh...oh, yes. Candy and witches and goblins. I used to have such fun on this night!"

Becky told him, "Well, you still can."

"I can?"

"Sure. Come with me, and we'll go trick or treating." Producing a broom, she said, "We'll ride this."

Roger sat behind, and the two flew out through the open window and into the vast night, their way lit by millions of stars and a big, yellow moon.

Author's Note

I was inspired to write this after reading one of Emma's stories about a young woman who visits an old man in a hospital, bringing him joy in his last moments.

Reviews

[emmajoy]

Apart from being honoured that THE best short story writer in the Cafe used my wee tale as an example .. may i stress that you've brought tears to my eyes and a smile too because.. Because if man or woman has to fly out of this world it needs to be with a dear friend at the driving wheel of any handy vehicle and an enormous smile in the heart. Sam, you're a wonderful writer, you create places and people then gently tug at atmospheres and personalities until they come to life in front of us. Thank you, dear man. Beautiful.

[Samuel Dickens]

Thank you, Emma, both for the kind words and the idea upon which to write.

[roarke]

Your piece expresses the many stories still left to tell, and yet hidden. Currently I'm very close to the subject to comment more. Excellent writing.

[Samuel Dickens]

Thanks, Bill. I've been on both sides of this one.

[Southern Cross]

What a beautiful yet sad story of wisdom generated with age. I always read your short stories and wish they were novels. They always end too quickly for me.

[Samuel Dickens]

Thank you. I'm truly honored.

[Marie]

Wonderfu story for Halloween...and leaves something to the reader's imagination...

[Samuel Dickens]

Thank you, Marie.

[Will Neill]

Sam, I remember when I used to be the youngest boy in the classroom, a blink of an eye ago. A great little story. For me I want to ride off into the sunset. Wisdom come's with age, and a mature wine tastes better.
Good Luck my friend.
Will

[Samuel Dickens]

Thanks, Will. I have such memories, too. I think we all should be able to fly, swim or ride away in the manner of our choosing, and not just fade with a whimper. OBTW, that's a great pic.

[Will Neill]

cheers, Sam.

[Angi]

I worked as a private duty CNA for many years. I was reminded of one of my last clients. His name was Milton. He was a feisty guy. When I met him, he was bedridden by then and needed help to do pretty much everything. His eyes were sparkling, though. I would shave his face every morning and every morning he would try to pull me into bed with him. I would laugh and ask him what he would do if I ever took him up on it. He sighed and said he wasn't sure what he could do anymore, but he would damn sure die trying. Ha! I miss that old fella. Lovely story, Sam. Angi~

[Samuel Dickens]

This revelation tells me a lot about you, and it's all good. Thanks for reading and understanding this, Angi.

[Angi]

Always my pleasure, Sam.