As Time Passes by Claudia Shelton Amy met her at the door wanting to go outside to sit in the swing. When the answer was no, she had continued “Why?” “Because it’s raining outside,” Molly gently said, while hanging her coat in the closet. “So?” “If it’s raining, you will get wet and you might get a cold.” “I won’t get a cold.” “The last time you went out in the rain, you got worse than a cold. You got pneumonia. You were very sick. Why don’t we see what Carole has made for dinner?” Molly took Amy’s hand as they walked to the kitchen. She always loved the feel of Amy’s hand in hers; the bond of love flowed through their palms and energized them both—time seemed to stand still. “I heard the laundry room door close and knew you were home.” Carole, the caregiver, set still warm bread from the oven and salad from the refrigerator onto the counter. “You look tired tonight, Ms. Golden. Are you getting enough rest?” “Just a long day at work. How’s everything here? Have a big day?” Molly reached up to take the Daily Notes list from the corkboard where she and Carole had agreed it would be left everyday. “Everything was just fine. A little tummy upset at one point, but that could be because someone had ice cream on our walk and then came home wanting chocolate milk,” Carole said, winking at Amy. “Chocolate milk. I want chocolate milk,” Amy chimed in. “We’ll eat in just a bit. Why don’t you go ahead and sit down.” Molly pulled out the chair by one of the placemats. Carole put her jacket on, retrieved her purse from the top shelf and undid her umbrella. “I’ll see you in the morning. Thought we might stay in and make cookies tomorrow since it’s supposed to rain.” “Cookies. I want cookies.” Amy’s smile was bright at the thought of cookies, and her eyes widened with delight. “Good night, Amy.” Carole bent and gave her a kiss on the forehead. Amy took Carole’s hand and said “Good night, cookies.” As Carole let herself out, Molly filled the dinner plates and put them on the table along with two glasses of milk. Then she proceeded to fasten a bib around Amy. “You’ve got such a pretty outfit on tonight. We sure don’t want to make a mess on it. How about we put a bib on?” “Thank you,” Amy said, in her most polite voice. “You are very welcome. How about I cut that chicken up for you?” As Molly cut the chicken into tiny bite size pieces, Amy wandered into the living room. “Come back to your chair so we can eat.” Molly sat down and waited for Amy. “I’m not hungry.” The sound of the curio cabinet door opening made Molly let dinner wait; she walked quietly to the French doors of the living room. There was Amy holding a small figurine of a sleeping mare with its colt nestled along side. As Amy gently stroked the amber glass, she seemed transported to another world and for a brief moment she hummed “Hush Little Baby.” Then after holding it against her cheek, she carefully replaced it on the shelf and closed the cabinet door ever so softly. Molly hurried back to her seat at the table. “Let’s eat.” “Coming. Cookies?” “Cookies later, let’s eat dinner now.” “Okay.” ******** “I’m done,” Amy said, finishing her milk. “Let’s see what you’ve eaten tonight.” Molly said,scanning Amy’s plate. She knew from having counted the green beans and pieces of chicken previously, that only five green beans and three pieces of chicken had been eaten. “Could you eat another piece of chicken for me and maybe two more green beans? I see you don’t want your salad and that’s okay.” Molly continued eating her meal while Amy moved the beans and chicken around on her plate, finally eating one green bean and a tomato out of the salad. “I’m done.” “What about that piece of chicken?” Molly coaxed. “I’m not hungry.” “Okay. Can you help me take your plate to the sink?” Molly put the leftovers in the refrigerator and took her own plate to the sink. She glanced over and saw Amy with her plate standing by the back door. “To the sink, dear. Here let me help you. Could you go turn the television on for us?” “Okay.” As Molly finished in the kitchen, she heard the Andy Griffith Show come on the television. Amy was laughed at something Barney said. By the time Molly got to the sofa and snuggled next to Amy, the commercial was on. Then quickly there was the familiar music and four men riding horses on the screen as the next serial repeat started. “Next is Bonanza—is that okay with you?” “Okay. I like westerns.” Amy rose and stood in front of the curio cabinet with her fingers pressed against the glass. "Here, let's get the horses out of the cabinet for you to hold." Molly opened the door and laid the amber figurine in Amy's hands. “I like horses.” Amy said smiling as she carefully carried the mare and colt to the sofa. “I do too,” Molly said, as she sat next to Amy. “Did your mother like horses, too?” "She liked them very much and would go riding every chance she got. Sometimes we would rent a carriage and go riding together on the trail behind the house." Molly loved telling the story. “For awhile, we even had a sorrel mare, Jasmine, with a white blaze on her forehead. One year she give birth to a beautiful foal on Christmas day. Patience—I called her Patty—had the same coloring and same white blaze, but had a flaxen mane and tail. They were quite a pair; running across the field or rolling in the grass. And sometimes you could see them walking lazily on the crest of the hill, silhouetted against the setting sun. Wonderful—they were just wonderful together.” Once again this began the nightly routine of television, bath time, and reading or singing before bedtime. ********** “ . . . and they lived happily ever after. The end.” “Read it again,” Amy pleaded. “Maybe tomorrow night, now it’s time to go to sleep.” Molly gently tucked the covers around Amy and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “If it’s sunny this weekend, we’ll take a drive to the country and visit where I grew up. Would you like to go to the country?” “Oh yes. Flowers?” “The flowers should be beautiful in the flower bed we made years ago. Hydrangeas, coneflowers, gladiolas and daisies should all be in bloom. Of course those giant sunflowers will be so tall we’ll have to look up to see their bright yellow heads.” The memories brought a tear to Molly’s eyes as her chin began to quiver. “And berries—should be some blackberries we can pick. We’ll be sure to take a pail to bring some back.” “Blackberry cake. We could make blackberry cake.” “How about cobbler instead; with some ice cream?” Molly proceeded to pick up the room, putting everything back in its assigned place. Then she laid out clothes for the next day, along with the comb and brush, so Amy would have everything she needed when she met the world tomorrow. As she turned for one final look around the room, she saw Amy sitting on the side of the bed. “Time for breakfast?” Amy asked. “No, time for bed. Back under the covers you go.” Once again Molly tucked her in, knowing it wouldn’t be long till she’d be up again; then clicked on the night light and intercom. “Thanks pretty lady. What is your name?” Amy asked. “Molly.” “Thanks, Molly.” Molly closed the child’s gate across the stairs just in case Amy decided to wander around, and turned out the light. Then as she had done even as a child, she blew a kiss and said, “Goodnight, Mother, sweet dreams.” Claudia Shelton is a member of Saturaday Writers and Thursday Night Critique Group. Copyright © 2006. Do not reproduce without permission. Home Contents