She told me about saving to go to college
but didn’t because of “well, lots of things…”
She began to tell me how she lost her apartment
but only said “It was lots of things…”
She spoke in detail however of her job as a nurse,
how she spoke only Polish until she was 5
She told me tales of her father’s small business
and how his employees loved him so much
She talked about how much better she feels
when she runs every day and meditates
and how much she misses both
while staying within the shelter’s confines
“She’s like a building with 15 floors,”
her new shelter friend whispers to me,
“but her elevator only goes up to 5 now”
Day Four prompt: write a sad poem in simple terms
Life happens and then we are left rising to those floors we can manage. Love the unspoken here…
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Thanks for your comment. She didn’t stay at the shelter long; I think she was beginning to have symptoms of dementia. I was so impressed by the other shelter residents being so kind and protective of her. Good people.
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You are welcome. I hope she found the care she required. I imagine some shelters become tiny communities within themselves. It is good that other residents show such concern for their neighbours.
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We so often forget that these people we try not to see have lives not so different than ours. (K)
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What a great observation. The homeless do become invisible. Even though I worked with the residents on resumes and other documents, I think the main service offered was to just listen to their stories. Thanks for dropping by and sharing your thoughts.
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Listening is very important. Just to know someone sees you.
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Very touching, I feel like my words added can only spoil it.
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Love this. Adding the quote about the floors, is very powerful. Sometimes we forget to look past the one thing that stands out and remember that person is so much more than the moment.
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I loved that metaphor also that the other woman in the shelter used to describe her new friend. I have to admit that wasn’t original. Thanks for stopping by and leaving a comment.
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Oh wow. This is moving.
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funny how all the details fall away as we age. My mother lives in a nursing home, and I wonder about the stores are that glossed over.
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When my father-in-law was sliding into dementia, he was able to remember such details of his youth but couldn’t remember what happened just a minute ago. It’s the short term memory that goes first I think.
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I think so too.
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Wow – you cover so much in a few lines! I hope the woman closes her eyes and runs in her daydreams!
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What a lovely sentiment, Jazz.
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