Trifecta: The Old Folks Home

Nothing ever changes at Miller’s Merry Manor. Certainly, nothing exciting ever happens.

The folks file in for supper at the same time every evening, 5:00, and sit at the very same table each and every time. Separate tables for guys and girls just like high school.

“He stares at me. At every meal. It’s not right.” Complains Yolanda.

“Maybe he wants your hot body.” Josephine rolls her eyes.

“What’d she say?” Yolanda leans over to Midge.

“She said, ‘He’s liked you ever since sophomore year when you did that musical together. Remember your hearing aids for dinner, dear.”

“Well, it’s rude. Doesn’t he realize I’m still grieving my Henry?”

“Henry died ten years ago. I think he’d approve of you being cordial to Robert. They were friends after all.”

“Robert was sweet on me, wasn’t he, all those years ago? But I had Henry. I don’t think I’ve lost my figure much either, do you?” Yola sighed.

“He’s not bad for 83. I’d entertain him,” Midge giggled.

“Then get busy. Maybe he’ll stop mooning over me. It’s becoming bothersome.”

After dinner, they progress to the television room for Wheel of Fortune, then reruns of The Golden Girls or whatever else plays on Channel Nine. The men follow staking out the card table for a few hands of gin rummy or a ballgame.

At precisely 8:00, they march down the drab gray halls of the town’s only state-run nursing home. Canes and walkers at the ready.

“Why does Robert always run out of here?” Josephine asks.

“He must have one of those enlarged prostates. Pees all the time.”

Yola opens her door.

“Damn woman! I know you can move a lot faster than that!” Robert shouts.

“I’m sorry darling. It’s important to me.”

Frisky, he pulls her onto the bed.

“It’s a bitch keeping up this sham. They gotta know a man wants what a man wants.  But you’re the best actress I know, sweetheart.”

Friday night. Not routine at all…for some seniors.

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33-333 words using the 3rd definition of:

BITCH (noun)

1: the female of the dog or some other carnivorous mammals

2 a : a lewd or immoral woman

   b : a malicious, spiteful, or overbearing woman —sometimes used as a generalized term of abuse

3: something that is extremely difficult, objectionable, or unpleasant

Pondering Promises

I like to run outside. Preferably through a beautiful forest preserve. Somewhere I won’t likely run into people I know which is just about everywhere in this tiny place I live.

I don’t listen to music while I run (unless I’m sorely lacking motivation) because, to me, it’s thinking time. My mind is quiet for a change.

I drove to one of my favorite places this morning, Swallow Cliff (Home to the infamous “Stairs” I talk about). I needed this today. It was a gorgeous morning; peaceful and quiet and perfect to ponder “a promise” prompt courtesy of Mama Kat's Writing Challenge.

Not one to follow rules precisely, I decided to twist this and thought about my feelings about promises in general.

How do I feel about promises? What kind of promises do I make? Should I, or anyone, promise anything? You know, stuff along those lines.

I thought about the kind of promises I made to people when I was younger. “I promise we’ll always be together” (probably not a good thing to do at age 21), “I promise I won’t tell.”, “I promise to go with you to….” They were simple, small and easy to keep with the exception of the one I should never have made. Lessons….

“Promise only what you can deliver. Then deliver more than you promise.” 

- Author Unknown

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve promised less. And it’s not for fear of falling short and I don’t believe I’m copping out either. It just hasn’t been required. People know they can count on me. I’ve demonstrated the “reliability factor”. I don’t often let people down but I have on occasion.

There is actually one thing that I will promise and I do so often. I’ll always hold someone’s confidence in a securely locked spot deep within me. Consider it a vault made of steel…NOTHING is coming out…not tomorrow, not next week or next year. Not ever.

Promises get broken and that saddens me because I know it hurts. I’ve felt it but I don’t spend time worrying that someone will disappoint me. We all make mistakes, and I’m a frequent offender. I also don’t believe those close to me would ever intentionally disappoint me either, but sometimes they do. I’m a big girl and I can deal with disappointment.

What weighs on me the most is the possibility that I might disappoint someone else. That’s tough for me.  I don’t want my promises to be empty and unreliable. So, I don't frequently make them.


Is it a bad thing that I don’t make promises often? I’m not sure how to answer my own question but I don’t think so.

I like this promise...It's sweet and easy, and these days, I'm loving sweet and easy!

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