Personal Narrative

“Walking group will meet at the entrance in five minutes. That’s walking group, at the entrance in five minutes.” My voice, projected from the intercom on the wall beside the Activity Coordination office, echoed throughout the entirety of Clearview Lodge.

                I stood, tapping my fingers against my jeans and looked to the wall on my left. A gold trimmed mirror positioned above a burgundy couch lent me a glimpse of my reflection, and I brushed my thick brown curls out of my green eyes and adjusted my purple cardigan. Revealed past my figure was the image of a long hallway, populated by two residents slowly making their way back to their rooms from breakfast.

                Routine was an imperative to the seniors at Clearview. Meal blocks were daily at eight, eleven and five.  Exercises were to be held every Monday and Wednesday at ten. The games and activities, that I was partly in charge of, respected the same rules. Baking group was scheduled for every Tuesday at nine. Bingo was to be indubitably held every Tuesday and Thursday at three. (And I was warned that should this would ever be forgotten, a rebellion would ensue.) On that same boat, walking group was every Monday and Wednesday at nine.

                “Hey good lookin’!” A high pitched, teasing voice called out. I turned grinning, internally preparing myself for the daily exchange with Art.

                He wobbled on his walking stick, approaching me. “Hey!” He called out, looking up at me with light grey eyes, and making sure he had my unwavering attention.  He motioned at me with his cane. “I got the money, honey, you got the time!”

                A classic Art pickup line. He was the type to bobble down a hallway, calling the same line boldly to all ladies - no matter what age or looks they were blessed with. A glint in his eyes hinted that if the age of his body matched the age of his personality, he would be a waggish boy of eighteen.

                “Sorry Art,” I laughed, “I’m afraid I don’t have the time today – and you’re going to have to show me that money first!”

                His pointed chin wrinkled as he pursed his lips, a merry sparkle still dancing in his eyes. “Hey!” he repeated in the same tone, questioning. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

                I shook my head and shrugged, shaking with laughter.

                He raised his small white eyebrows at me. “What’s a good lookin’ girl like you doing without a boyfriend?”

                I began, “Well Art I…” but he had turned his attention towards another of the staff passing by, approaching her and calling out, “Hey! I got the money, honey, you got the time!”

                I looked back, smiling and shaking my head as I approached the entrance of the lodge, the meeting place of the aged inhabitants of Clearview who wished to accompany me on a walk. I gazed expectantly around the room. It was a good turnout today.

                “Hey guys, are you ready for a walk today?” I asked cheerily, delighted. Four seniors waited patiently on a bench and in a wheelchair for me by the door. I was met with a friendly nod from Wanda, a look of determination from Susan, a ‘Yes ma’am’ from Frances and a smile from Dora. The cockatiels in the nearby cages squeaked, as if to protest our chance to enjoy nature’s elements without them.

“Alrighty then, let’s go!”  I positioned myself at the end of Dora’s wheelchair, heading the group, as they slowly pushed themselves up with the handles of their walkers. With Dora and me in the lead, we climbed through the two automatic doors and began our slow crusade outside.

                Dora’s wheelchair glided smoothly down the ramp. The metal on the framing her wheel glinted in the sunlight. A slight breeze ruffled the cuffs of her burgundy sweater. She closed her eyes, as if to enjoy a moment’s contentment, and then looked up at me with hazel eyes, her large, silvered curls a replica of the lazy clouds scattered above in the blue sky.

                “You know, this is the first time I’ve been able to come outside like this in a long, long time.” Her voice, low and soft, was thick with gratitude. “I would like to thank you for doing this for us.”

                “No problem, Dora,” I replied, caught unawares by her acknowledgment. Warmth filled me, and I smiled. I loved my job. Not only was it fun and full of rewarding opportunities to serve, but the relationships I built with those I spent my time with were irreplaceable.

                We made our leisurely, drawn out way down the sidewalk, the skate park to our right. It was not vacant at this time in the morning, but I knew that come afternoon it would be filled to the rim with the sounds and sight of eager kids and venturesome teens with rimmed hats on bikes, scooters and skateboards, jumping and dipping up and down the ramps on their wheels. To our left was Main Street, which was humming with the sounds of business and vehicles passing by.

                “Watch out!” I heard Wanda breathe jokingly as she gently feigned ramming her walker into the back of my shoe.

                “Oops,” I stated, “better get out of the way of the faster traffic!” I pushed Dora to the right side of the sidewalk as Wanda shuffled past me. Although she was a whopping 101 years of age, she didn’t look or act a day under eighty-five. Full of pranks and mischievous tricks, she was the one of the spunkiest seniors to populate Clearview’s halls. Soon she was ahead of me, her white curls bobbing atop her small frame.

                I turned my attention behind me, towards Frances and Susan. “How are you ladies doing?”

                Frances smiled her big smile at me, emphasizing the wrinkles by her eyes and cheeks. Her curled salt and pepper hair rippled in the breeze.  “It’s lovely hearing the songs of the birds.” The tallest of the bunch, she would be just under six feet tall if she was not bent down with age.

                We walked on, carefully minding our steps, and chatting casually. We slipped gratefully into the cool shadows of the park trees, for although it was morning the weather seemed to suggest the upcoming stifling heat of a startlingly warm summer’s day. The interior of the park was calm, the canopy of trees creating a shelter from the impending heat.  Park slides and equipment for child’s play lay at the far east end of the park. A small, concrete path wound on the inside of the park, lined with the occasional park bench and picnic table. Sprinklers irrigated the soft, green grass, covering the winding path inside with rippling puddles.

                “What do you say, Wanda?” I joked, “Should we take the path with the sprinklers? That would cool us down!” I grinned at her, and back at Frances and Susan, the former looking shocked while the latter seemed outright petrified by my statement.

                “Oh no, I think we better stay right on this path here,” recommended Frances, motioning to the path that bordered the road and the park.

Simultaneously Susan said, “Us older ladies aren’t like you young kids. We don’t like getting wet. We like to stay nice and warm. So we better not.” She straightened out the collar of her navy sweater. I consented, having previously come to that conclusion. Our company continued our sure way onward on the sidewalk edged by the line of park trees.

We were making our way to the edge of the block, midway through the park, when a pssshhhhh sound stopped us in our path. A flurry of activity surrounded us as dormant sprinklers sprang to life on the grass immediately to our right.

My mind raced. “Uh oh!” I proclaimed. The ladies looked at me with widening eyes.

“Come here, quick!” I called, motioning them towards me. We gathered in a clutter.

“We’re going to get wet!” Wanda proclaimed, accusing me jokingly. Luckily we had not gotten in the line of fire…yet.  I observed the scene. The sprinklers seemed to be making similar, round paths. As they gained pressure, they slowly circled, the one beside us spraying away from us towards the park. I waited to see if the sprinkler ahead of us would turn our way, and when it did not, I motioned towards my girls.

 “Hurry!” I called, pushing Dora ahead of me, as we all rolled our walkers and wheelchair with all the speed that we could muster. We stopped at a gap. Three more sprinklers lay ahead.

“So much for deciding not walking through the sprinklers today!” I laughed, lightening the mood as we checked to see if we could clear the next area without getting wet. Frances smiled, although there was a glimmer of worry in her eyes. Susan appeared shocked, and let out a nervous laugh.

 “Ok, ready, set, GO!” We raced past the next area. Two more sprinklers to go. I looked back, then forward, breathing heavily. We would have to time ourselves just right to avoid getting sprayed. As the sprinklers gained pressure, they sprayed in larger and larger projectiles within their sphere of space. The sprinkler ahead of us cleared the sidewalk, and we all hustled, the seniors white hair streaming as they gained all the speed they could safely muster.

We needed to pass one more sprinkler, and then we would be at the end of the block, to warmth, and safety.  Luckily we all had managed to avoid getting wet so far. The path ahead of us was blocked by raining droplets of spraying water curving our way. We waited patiently, the ladies catching their breath, when I looked back and -

“WATCH OUT!” I called out desperately, and dove to shield Dora with my body. The sprinkler to our backs had turned on us, and we were caught in the sprays crossfire!

“Run! Run! Run!” We called out, and hustled through, droplets pouring on us, soaking through our clothing and plastering our hair to our head. We put our heads down, and ran ahead, the ladies I was with moving faster than I believed was possible. With a cry of success, I cleared the sprinklers path, with the others filing towards me in quick succession.

Panting, we all looked at each other – and burst out laughing. I looked up, basking in the joyous sunlight.

“Well,” I declared, “There’s nothing like having a little adventure in the morning eh?”

“That’s one way to put it!” Susan admitted, smiling, brushing back her straight, damp hair. “You know what we’re missing on this walk? Music. I always walk with music playing.” She opened the seat of her walker, to reveal a CD player cradled in the case hidden within. She pressed a button, and classical music pervaded through the air. She casually snapped back on the lid, and led the way across the road, bobbing up and down, heading back towards Clearview. Still light with mirth, refreshed by our unexpected experience, we followed her.