Just Live

by Donna Poole

It took them awhile to get to their front porch swing. He had two bad knees; she had a bad hip. They both used canes. But they got to the porch the same way they’d gotten through 80 years of marriage, slowly and one step at a time. Henry was 100 years old, and Sylvia was 98.

As usual, Sylvia did most of the talking. Henry nodded often, held her hand with one of his, and rubbed his knees with the other. He kept the swing rocking. Sylvia was too short; her feet didn’t reach the porch floor.

“Henry! Have you been listening to a word I’ve been saying?”

His blue eyes squinted when he smiled in the way she’d loved so many years. “Of course. The world is in terrible shape. Inflation is eating our savings. We can’t keep up with this old farmhouse, and it’s falling down around our proverbial ears. We’ve outlived three of our six children and some of our grandchildren. That about cover it?”

“I didn’t say ‘proverbial.’”

He laughed.

“But Henry, don’t you ever wonder why we’re still alive? And aren’t you afraid how one of us will manage if the other one is gone? And doesn’t it make you sad that all our family moved south so long ago, and left us here in Michigan all alone?”

He shook his head and tightened his grip on her hand. “Nope, nope, and nope.”

Sylvia tried to stomp her foot but forgot it didn’t reach the floor. Her hip protested, and she winced. She raised her voice a bit more than she intended. “Could you possibly say more than ‘nope’?”

“I don’t wonder why we’re still alive. Lots of reasons for that. We can still love each other, pray for people, and help them. We’re in pretty good shape for the shape we’re in.”

He laughed. She didn’t. She’d heard it too many times for it to be funny.

He tried to wipe the grin off his face. “I’m not worried about how one of us will manage if the other is gone. It would be the hardest thing we’ve faced yet, but God would help us like he always has. We’re hardly alone even though our family is gone. We have so many friends from church who look out for us. And I’m not sad that all our family moved south. They were getting older too, and Michigan winters are hard on old bodies. If you remember, they asked us to come with them. Begged us, really.”

“I don’t want to move. I was born in Michigan. I’ll die in Michigan. I’m a Michigan girl.”

He couldn’t help it; he grinned again. He loved it that she still called herself a girl at her age. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You’re my Michigan girl. I’ll love you until the day after forever.”

Sylvia blushed. “Oh, get on with you now. I love you too, but you won’t worry about anything, so I have to worry enough for both of us. We can’t live on the little bit of social security we get, and our savings are almost gone. What will we do then? And if one of us dies, the other gets even less social security; what happens then? Our insurance premiums keep going up, and they don’t even cover medications. We’ve been lucky so far, but what if we need expensive prescriptions? And food? Henry, groceries cost more every week!”

Henry patted Sylvia’s hand. “You’re right, honey. For once, I agree with you. Go ahead and worry. God has let us down so many times before. Let’s talk about all those times God has failed us. You go first.”

“Henry!” She sputtered, then laughed. “You’re infuriating. Do you know that?”

“You may have told me a time or two. What do you say we do what we came out here to do?”

They looked across the fields and watched the glowing red orb of a sun sink into a bank of blue clouds. Neither of them could remember how many evenings they’d watched the sun set, sitting together on the old porch swing.

The swing made its comforting creaking noise; the spring peepers added their music, and it was a peaceful night in Michigan.

Henry broke the silence. “Sylvia?”

“Yes, dear?”

“What do you say we just live while we live?”

It took them awhile to get off the porch swing and back into the house. He had two bad knees; she had a bad hip. They both used canes. But they got back the same way they’d gotten through 80 years of marriage, slowly, and one step at a time.

The end

***

These blogs are now available in book form on Amazon:

Backroad Ramblings Volume One: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

Backroad Ramblings Volume Two: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

Backroad Ramblings Volume Three: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

Backroad Ramblings Volume Four: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

I have six other books on Amazon as well, four fiction books in the “Life at the Corners” series, and two children’s Christmas picture books.

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