by Donna Poole
The old lady sat in her favorite spot and rocked slowly. Creak, creak. Creak, creak. The porch swing was almost as worn as she was. She looked across the yard to the garden and smiled in amazement.
Pink, yellow, and white snapdragons still in bloom on November 6th in Michigan? Never in my ninety years have I seen it so. Perhaps it’s a sign of hope, and hope is something we can slowly use in this broken, divided country of ours.
She placed a hand over her heart and bowed her head in prayer, because she was many things, and deeply patriotic was one of them. A tear traced its way down her wrinkled cheeks. She whispered a few words, then looked up at her favorite maple tree. The few leaves left on it trembled in the soft southern breeze. It was unusually warm; yesterday, election day, had broken records in many ways, and the weather was one of them. It had been the warmest in history.
A record voter turnout had determined the election result. Now half the country was cheering and the other half mourning. Half felt the nation was saved; the other half felt it was doomed. And the old lady, what did she feel? She was too old to feel the country was either saved or doomed; she’d lived through too many elections. She was just sad the election had left families furious with each other and friendships shattered.
She hadn’t voted.
About a month earlier she’d found her absentee ballot in the kitchen trash. Thinking it was an oversight, she’d reached in to take it out, gingerly avoiding the brown banana peel next to it.
“Leave that there, Mom. Please.”
Her daughter’s voice sounded sharper than usual.
“Why, Patricia?”
“David and I discussed it. You know you aren’t yourself anymore. You forget your pills. You almost wore your slippers to church. You don’t remember the names of some of the grandkids. You’ve burned up two tea kettles. And remember the morning I found you eating mustard instead of peanut butter on your toast?”
Thoughts came to the old lady’s mind. You forget your pills too, Patricia. I don’t think God would have cared if I’d worn slippers to church. I might remember the names of the grandkids if I saw them more often. And I ate mustard on my toast on purpose. I was missing your dad terribly that day, and that’s what he always ate on his toast when we were young, before any of you kids were born.
But the tea kettles? She didn’t have a good answer for that, so she didn’t say anything at all. She did what she often did, walked quietly to her room and thanked God that Patricia and David were kind enough to give her a home. Most of the time they lived together in love and laughter, and when they didn’t, the old lady backed away.
She overheard a conversation that evening.
“Mom found her absentee ballot in the trash today.”
“So, what happened? Fireworks?”
“No, David. She didn’t say anything. I don’t think she cares about politics anymore.”
But Patricia was wrong. She did care about politics. She’d been researching the two main candidates for weeks, and she kept right on doing it. And she prayed. She prayed for the election as much as she did for her family. And that was a lot.
The old lady set a timer on her phone, so she’d remember her pills. On Saturday nights she sat a pair of shoes next to her slippers, so she’d remember to wear them to church. She made a list of all the grandchildren’s names and rehearsed it several times a day. She stopped making tea. But she forgot other things; it seemed she forgot something new each week. Patricia caught her putting salt instead of sugar on her cereal. But she was trying. Sometimes she felt like her mind was floating away like the clouds in the sky.
She’d stayed up late watching the election results on the television in her room until Patricia had come in.
“Mom, you need to shut that television off and go to sleep. You know you have more trouble forgetting things when you’re too tired.”
She’d frowned. “Do I? I hadn’t remembered that. I’ll go to sleep then.”
The old lady had gone to sleep, but she’d awoken several times in the night, checked the election results, and prayed.
And now she was sitting on the porch swing. Creak, creak. Creak, creak.
Patricia came out, sat next to her, and tucked the quilt closer around her.
“Are you warm enough, Mom?”
She smiled and nodded.
“I hope you don’t feel too bad about not voting this year.”
“That’s okay, honey. I did something just as important. I prayed.”
“Who did you pray would win?”
“Oh, I didn’t pray either of them would win. I just prayed for God’s will.”
“I’m curious, Mom. Which one would you have voted for?”
“Neither. I didn’t like either of them well enough to vote for them.”
“What!” Patricia started laughing.
“That’s right. That’s why I just prayed for God’s will. And now I’m asking God to heal our divided country. But I’m warning you, honey. They give me someone I like four years from now, and you try to throw away my ballot, you’re going to get some fight from me. And why are you laughing?”
Patricia gasped for breath. “Mom, I’m making you a doctor’s appointment. I do think you have memory problems, and maybe some medicine can help. But I was wrong. I don’t think you have Alzheimer’s. I think maybe you think more clearly than a lot of people in this country. Now, let’s go inside, okay?”
“You go in. I’ll come in a few minutes.”
The old lady sat in her favorite spot and rocked slowly. Creak, creak. Creak, creak. The porch swing was almost as worn as she was. She looked across the yard to the garden and smiled in amazement.
Pink, yellow, and white snapdragons still in bloom on November 6th in Michigan? Never in my ninety years have I seen it so. Perhaps it’s a sign of hope, and hope is something we can slowly use in this broken, divided country of ours.
She placed a hand over her heart and bowed her head in prayer, because she was many things, and deeply patriotic was one of them.
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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Photo Credit: John Poole