Lena sat down on the old sofa and picked up the empty cellophane wrapper that Janie left on the table. Janie came over and sat down next to the older lady.
Finally, Lena looked Janie in her eyes. “I don’t want anyone coming in here, calling themselves staying here to take care of me!”
“Miss Lena it would be for your own good—“
“Let me tell you something, Janie Foster. I’ve lived in this house since 1955 and I’m going to die upstairs in bed just like my husband, Billy. I’m not going to anyone’s home or adult day care.”
“Okay, Miss Lena—“
“And I don’t want no foreign nurses comin’ in here, bossin’ me around my own home. You hear me, gal?”
Janie put her hand on top of Lena’s and just rubbed it for a minute. Lena had started to perspire in the middle of her tirade.
“And as for that Mary Gross, I’ll write my letter and put it in her box tomorrow. You gotta at least expect your neighbors to respect your property. But I guess things get stranger before they get back to normal.”
She was shaking with anger and her eyes darted back and forth to the backyard window.
“I hear you,” Janie said softly. She nodded her head and continued to rub Lena’s hand. “But will you let me see the letter before you give it to Miss. Gross?”
Lena turned her head and eyed Janie suspiciously.
Gotta start the laundry.
Return a call.
Go to the store.
Wash the dishes.
Read a chapter of...whatever.
These are all excuses that I hear in my head every...
June 11, 2014
Ego Kills the Draft
June 3, 2014
I may the only person who loves writing exercises. You find out some of the dormant issues and thoughts and beliefs within yourself. You stretch your...