Writing for Fun
July 2018
Catch Me If You Can - Jan Norman
Catch Me If You Can – Janice Norman I sat in my armchair staring at the remains of my dinner on the over bed table, the massacred remains of a lamb chop and jacket potato, lying forlornly in congealed gravy lumps together with undercooked cauliflower wedges. A bowl containing a leathery piece of apple pie and custard lay untouched having defied my attempts to cut into manageable pieces.
I was still hungry but had given up the struggle. It would be futile to try again to talk to the staff here at Sunnyside Residential Home for the old and unwanted as I knew my words were incomprehensible to them.
A teardrop splashed onto the tabletop. Following a stroke my life had changed beyond recognition. Meals evaded my most ardent endeavours to consume having only the use of only one mobile hand and a slack, lopsided mouth that drooled incessantly. Walking was a distant memory too due to a lifeless leg. As for rehabilitation, so far none had been forthcoming.
The door to my room banged open as Lily shoved in the dinner trolley.
‘Goodness Harold you’ve hardly touched any of your dinner. Aren’t you hungry?’ and without waiting for a reply she collected all the crockery and with a cheery ‘bye’ disappeared.
I was feeling very sorry for myself. Life here at Sunnyside had been tolerable when I could move around and join in the activities or escape the confines of the home for days out in the town or surrounding countryside but now I could only read or watch TV and then only if some kind soul thought to ask and placed my book or remote near my left hand.
I gazed around the room, remembering another life when the few cherished pieces of furniture I had brought with me had had a different, special meaning. How excited Daphne and I had been choosing those pieces. Sadly she was now an ephemeral dream as was my life as head gardener at Hidcotes.
I caught sight of the photograph of me receiving an award for Best Garden In 1996 and smiled. The award party had caught me unawares; working that morning in the old walled kitchen garden I was still holding a trug of freshly dug up garlic. Daphne was in the picture too. She had kept the secret well. The two great loves of my life, Hidcotes and my wife, in one shot. That had been one of the best days of my life.
Where had the time gone? Lost in reverie I did not hear the door open once more. This time nurse Bailey entered.
‘Good afternoon Harold. How would you like to sit out in the garden and drink your tea? It’s a beautiful day.’
Again a rhetorical question as she did not even look me in the eye to gauge my reactions. Just as well I suppose for if I could I would have snorted in derision. Garden? Sunnyside boasted a small terrace with ramps leading to a lawn intersected with hedged pathways and regimented borders; stiff little plants daring to grow and actually add splashes of colour to the greenness of it all.
In the wheelchair I went and before you could say ‘terrace’ I was firmly locked into position next to a battered metal table with parasol and left with a cup of tea – within reaching distance of my useless right hand which was tucked beneath my blanket. I sighed. Having nothing else to do I could not help but mentally replant the garden as I would have done at Hidcotes.
Hey, hang on a minute. Could I see a gardener in the distance? He was a tall, lithe young man, blue open necked shirt and green dungarees gently pulling garlic straight from the bed. He slowly rubbed away the dry soil from the bulbs and smoothed down the roots before laying them in a trug.
Now he was deep within the lushly planted borders, replacing dead irises with new dahlia plants, heeling them in then watering well. I could hear the drone of the bees and see dancing butterflies around his face. I could even feel the sunshine.
Slowly, as if in a dream, the gardener straightened and turned to face me.
He was me.
A slow smile spread across his face and he beckoned me. I felt myself rise to my feet and begin to walk towards him. A butterfly fused with my younger self and engulfed me. I was deliriously happy. I was dancing with the butterflies, going home.
Catch me if you can, Sunnyside.