The last of my generation. Savoring my cigarette, I sit blowing smoke rings. They dissipate into wispy nothingness, metaphorical for my existence these days. I’m not alone in this assisted living complex. But I am lonely. With my failing eyesight, I no longer escape on adventures with Agatha Christie or James Patterson.
I have so few pleasures. Sometimes I’ll listen to Duke Ellington records and I’ll bury my soul in a scrapbook with the photographs there. And the moss that I imagine in my dreams, always beneath my husband’s feet. I can see it when I bend over the pages with my magnifying glass, in the picture of John standing beside our first tent. Memories come alive on the pages. My children’s birthday celebrations, cheeks pooched out, blowing candles. I’ve been blessed. My life has been good. But oh Lord, it’s time. It’s time.
Written for Prosery Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today, Kim asks us to include the line “And I’ll bury my soul in a scrapbook, with the photographs there and the moss” in our piece of flash fiction that is 144 words in length, sans title. The line is from the poem Take This Waltz by Leonard Cohen. We may change the punctuation of the required line, but must use the words exactly, in the exact order as appears in Cohen’s poem.
Image created on Bing Create.
lillian the home poet 
HI Lillian, with parents and aunts in their late 80s, I can relate to this very well. A powerful piece.
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Thank you – your comment is truly appreciated.
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💕
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Welcome back to the pub after your latest adventure, Lill! I love the smoky, jazzy feel to your Prosery, but how sad to be the last of one’s generation. Well done for splitting the prompt line.
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Thank you, Kim. Glad to be home for awhile now. Travelling is fun – but home is home.
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Her aloneness is palpable. If she is ready, who should stop her.
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Yes. There’s a difference between never being alone…..assisted living centers usually have activities, some “field trips”, a cafeteria with at least dinner offered as a shared meal….many other people living in the complex. But it is true, even in the midst of a crowd, one can be lonely . . . and perhaps “lonely” is the worse kind of alone you can be.
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❤
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Nice one Lillian
much 🤍love
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Wonderfully written and yes to many of our elderly are wasting away in aged care facilities. My Mum has been in one for a few years now and it drains not just those who are in care it also hard to be part of a parent’s declining years. Age is grand for some for many it’s not.
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Aging can be hard for sure. A great read, Lillian.
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Great images in your story. Your photo really says it all! Love it.
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this is such a sad reality. When friends are taken away first and one is alone one is really alone. Great reading. Enjoyed.
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This is a wonderful weaving of words around age, memory and loneliness. I like the sense of being in a community but still alone. Alone with our own memories. Very poignant.
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This is sad. My great grandmother lived to be 102. Her husband passed long before her. I imagine living to 102 would be taxing on anyone.
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Breathtaking, lillian! You evoke the loneliness and weariness of awaiting the end so vividly!
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You are right, Lillian – people all at that final stage of life being concentrated into a facility and only having photos and memories to evoke the rest of life is a lonely condition and if only one could still live amongst extended family…
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Awesome use of the prompt!
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My mother (94) is not saying it’s time, but she is in the scrapbook and moss as you intone. Loved this.
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Love the song, take this walz…
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