Old Folks Home
I remember it well, like I was just there. A small skinny girl, with long blonde hair. Packed up the car, and drove out of town. We loaded up a gifts of choclate and a gown. My poor great grandma all cooped up in her room. Her roomate was grouchy, and shouting of our doom. We visited for hours and watched her dip snuff. She did it for years. I hated the stuff. We finally decided that we needed to go. Talked of eating and where to stay?? We didn't know. On our way out, strolling down the hall. WE can across a man who had started to bawl. He rolled up beside me slumped over in his chair. Grabbed me by the arm, and proceeded to my hair. He started ranting that I was his daughter. He was never letting go, his burning hands getting hotter. I started to cry and my mom was sure worried. With all the commotion, the aids how they scurried. It took a whole hour of coaxing and pleading. For him to let go, cause my arm started bleeding. It left there that day, crying and scared. I've never gone back, I never dared. I sorry til this day, my grandma died alone. I never will forget that day in the Old Folks Home. Written March 26th, 2002 © on Mar 26 2002 12:47 PM PST 0 • 10
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"I remember it well,..."