Lessons About Death and Love-I Go to School

About my father after my mother came to Vermont-I am not sure that the bachelor life at 90 is much fun. Even if you think your life is full it is lonely making single sandwiches and tiny salads and going out to eat in restaurants by yourself, a waitress telling you the specials is not much human contact when compared to the other empty hours in the day. But the week my mother left my father drove to the mall and bought a new couch and chair and a cowhide pillow dyed to look like giraffe, and he conducted his legal business from his new chair, telephone at his side, fax machine against the wall, electric typewriter on the desk, extraordinarily acute by any standard and no longer surprised to outlive his clients.

When my mother arrived in Vermont she was in sorry shape, hardly cognizant, plastic devices on her feet because of pressure sores, in a perennial daze and smelling of putrefaction. Where am I, she whispered bewildered, its time to go home now, she said. She meant Florida. She meant, my father.

About Karen To and Fro

Everything you didn't want to know about me!
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