Going Home

Margaret waited until the coast was clear and pressed her frail body against the cold brick wall. She hoped if she made herself small, moved quickly and quietly, she could get to the front door un-detected. The long hall’s overhead lights were turned off to “conserve energy.” Or so the residents were told, when they pleaded to not be left alone in complete darkness. She suspected the lights were kept off so the night crew could sleep through their shifts. The only illumination for her flight, was the rusty green exit sign hanging over the porthole to her freedom. Tonight, Margaret was grateful for the green tinted darkness, that barely lit her way to the door. While enveloped in tinged shadows, Margaret, or Maggie as her beloved husband Ted called her, stopped to listen to the familiar sounds of the lonely night, one last time…

Between the soft sound of her cautious steps, Maggie could hear lonely Mr. Abrams mumbling in his sleep; something about his daughter or his wife. He always got the two confused. One of them was dead, and the other refused to visit him in this “God forsaken place.” Flirty Miss Gertie, in the room next to hers was sobbing in her sleep again. It woke Maggie every night, and she wanted to shout at her one last time, “If I want to hear crying, I’ll listen to myself!” She held her tongue and continued to edge her way a little closer to the door with the green lighted exit sign.

Maggie stopped briefly to wipe tears from her freshly roughed cheeks. Faint streaks of red lipstick smudged Ted’s wrinkled cotton handkerchief that she clutched tightly between her arthritic fingers. Before lights out, she had carefully and secretly applied makeup she had kept hidden for years. She would finally have someone to wear it for. Before stuffing the stained handkerchief back into her nightie pocket, she stroked the monogrammed T on its corner. It reminded her of the urgency of her long-planned flight from the nursing home where she was left years ago.

Maggie fears she might be seen in the faint glow of the green door sign and several dim lights from computer screens on the registration desk. Slowly she lowers her thin, elderly body to the floor and struggles to remove the frayed, crusty fabric slippers that make flip flop sounds as she crawls past the desk on her hands and knees. This is not the first time she has crawled, in the dark, past the desk. It was crucial that Maggie rehearse and prepare for her departure. Two previous times she was able to get to the door to work on the creaky hinges. Using butter pats that were saved from dinner trays, Maggie was able to successfully rub and press the butter deep into the hinges. Hopefully this would alleviate the grinding sound of metal on metal. Butter would be the key ingredient to the recipe for her escape, and Ted said tonight he would be waiting for her!

As Maggie sat on the hard-stone floor in front of the front desk to rest, her head dropped forward. Exhausted from her journey down the long-deserted hall, Maggie’s eyes close, and she begins to dream. She could feel Ted’s arms around her as she stood over the stove making his favorite dish. She loved the kitchen of the home they had shared all those years. Ted would sing softly into her ear, and the kitchen became a ballroom as he twirled her across the old tiled floor. She smiles while dozing and remembering all the dinners that were served late and cold.

The startling ring of a desk phone pulls her from the Ted’s arms and their dance. After a few curt words, the aid that picked up the phone, slams down the receiver, angry that he could not sleep in peace. Within minutes of hanging up, loud snoring sounds drift down from the desk and assure Maggie that she will probably go un-noticed. She is grateful to be awakened by the ringing of the phone, for to be found on the floor by the morning shift would mean a lock on her room’s door. She is sure she has only enough energy to make this escape once. It’s now or never.

At eighty-nine, Maggie is stronger than many of her fellow patients. Yet she knows half the battle will be to get through the parking lot and up the hill to the road where she can flag down a ride into town. The heavy metal front door slowly and quietly shuts behind her. She is glad that all the butter stains on her nighty have payed off. A full moon illuminates her path to the grassy hillside edging the parking lot. Cars in the lot are clustered closely together and form a maze she will have to navigate to freedom. A streetlight at the top of the hill lights the path. Moving slowly on tender, bare feet, Maggie chastises herself for not putting her slippers in the nighty pocket with the hankie. She chuckles softly as she imagines the faces of the staff as they pick up the abandoned worn slippers. They were left behind as a farewell gift.

Maggie whispers encouragement to herself as she descends the rough, cold steps of the building. “I can do this! I can do this! I can do this!” has been her mantra since the night of the dream. She never told anyone about her dreams. The staff already thinks she is delusional because she talks to Ted when he visits her at night. It was a reoccurring dream, and Maggie hoped it would return every time she closed her eyes. It was the reason she found the strength and courage to go home. In her dreams Ted had repeatedly asked her, begged her, to come home. It was so real! She could feel his warm skin, his tender embrace and even smell the mints on his breath. The mints she always bought him, because he would hug her and whisper “you never know when I’ll get frisky!” She always knew upon waking that it was a dream, and through her tears she tried to fall back asleep and return to Ted’s arms.

Ted had died two years ago. At least that’s when they decided to tell her because she kept asking why he hadn’t visited. It wasn’t like him to stay away. He didn’t want her there anyway. The day they brought her to the home was the first time and the last time she had seen him cry. They said it was for her own good. That she didn’t always know where she was or who she was, and since he had stopped coming, she wondered if he was dancing in the kitchen without her.

Ted was waiting for her to come home, and she wouldn’t make him wait anymore! Maggie starts the journey through the parking lot towards the hillside by the road. Slowly the intense cold of late October penetrates her bare feet and the pain of sharp rocks and stones in the asphalt causes Maggie to struggle for her balance.

There are no walkers or safety railings for Maggie to grip and the car handles are spread far apart. Just a few feet from the soft grass Maggie trips, falls and strikes a car door as she lands between the cars.

The searing pain in her head slowly subsides and she decides to rest just a little before continuing through the parking lot. A blinding white light shines all around her and she can hear Ted calling her name from a distance. The siren of an in-coming emergency vehicle breaks Maggie’s reverie, and she quickly gets to her feet, before they find her on the ground.

The thought of being with her lover has invigorated and energized her movements. Maggie is pleased how quickly she can climb the grassy incline, despite the cool slippery dew. Lifting her arms into the air and waving by the side of the road, Maggie hopes to be spotted and picked up. She is far from town, but looking down the abandoned dark road, she can clearly see their welcoming Cape Cod style house. It is beautiful with its fresh painted white shutters, surrounded by an ivy-covered picket fence that Ted spent weeks building and installing. It was that little squeaky gate of his beloved picket fence that taught her the many uses of butter. A soft laugh escapes Maggie’s lips as she begins telling Ted all about her risky adventure to return home.

Tony was no stranger to the dark desolate stretch of road he traveled several times a week. He had lived in the area all his life. He was the third generation over- the- road trucker in his family. It was expected that he would follow in his father’s and grandfather’s foot-steps. He didn’t mind, it just got so very lonely on cold dark nights like tonight. Even his company’s dispatchers had stopped talking and were probably sleeping. So, when he saw an image, hitchhiking down the road, he was excited to have someone share his secluded cab. Conversation is always welcome on a long haul.

As Tony heads closer to the hitchhiker, he rubs his tired eyes in disbelief. Standing dangerously far into the road, an elderly woman frantically waves with both arms. It would be un-thinkable to drive past her, and not stop to check her situation. But tonight, he just didn’t want to get involved with or be in the middle of a runaway senior hunt. Tony couldn’t trust anyone after his divorce and was just fine living a life of solitude and back roads. That’s why he liked driving alone. Unless she could keep him company for a couple hours, he wanted to drive around her. But he knew he couldn’t face his truck driving father if he didn’t stop. He’d spent his whole childhood listening to the many stories his father and grandfather told of helping stranded people on the side of the road. Feeling guilty that he would even consider leaving her in the road alone, Tony pulls over.

Tony prepares to get out and help the little old woman into his cab. But before he can turn the handle, the spry, limber elderly person is at his side. Only second to how odd a senior woman hitchhiking in the dead of night is, is the apparel of the woman. The hour is late, the weather boarders on frost warning, and it is the darkest strip of highway in the county. Yet, hear sits a woman who has easily celebrated eighty plus birthdays, dressed in only a nightgown. If it weren’t so sad, Tony thought, it would be funny. He knows he now has the best rescue story in the family of truckers.

The conversation Tony had hoped for, was highly unlikely, as the old woman could only point, and not form words. He suspected his rider was a resident of the local nursing home his own grandmother had stayed in when he was a child. Tony figured she must have ridden a distance with others, as the home was at least ten miles back. It was not surprising his passenger could not form words, as her deep sobbing filled his space and his lonely heart. Her pointing was exaggerated, insistent and constant. It felt as if she knew where she wanted to go, and that there was someone waiting for her. He was done with his run and on his way back to the garage. What would it hurt to help her perhaps, go home?

Keeping his eyes on the road, so as not to embarrass the under dressed little grandma at his side, Tony started the conversation he so craved. He told her about his own grandmother. His childhood. His trials and his tribulations and love lost. Without a word, he sensed she understood with her warm smile and tender eyes. It was good not to be alone tonight.

In the light of the radio, Tony could see her slender little body shiver. With the skill of a veteran truck driver, he was able to struggle out of his heavy blue down jacket without veering off the road. Tony was glad he realized she was chilly when he did. At her age, the elements can be deadly. As he wrapped his jacket around her boney shoulders, he could feel how stiff the cold had made her skin. He turned up the heater and turned down the radio. He had so much to tell her. They had at least an hour before they got into town, and for the first time in a long time, a hitchhiker had made him feel less lonesome. Maybe even at peace.

Sunrise was starting to peek over the skyline as they rolled into the little town his passenger had eagerly pointed to. With several arm waves and gestures, finding her picket fenced house was relatively easy. Tony was relieved to see someone at the door waiting for the delivery of his new friend, and yet a little sad. As he lifter his “lighter than air” friend from her side of the truck, he thought she looked younger in the morning light. She offered Tony his jacket back, but had it pulled even tighter over her thin frame by the young man who had brought her home. “Keep it! It was a gift from my ex-wife. Remember what I told you about her? I don’t need her or the jacket anymore.” It felt good that Tony could give away the last gift his Ex-wife gave him before she left. To his departing new friend, Tony lowered his head and whispered, “thank you for picking me.”

Tony watched as the lovely old woman, wrapped in his jacket, walked across the threshold of her home. The embrace shared by the two lovers, in the doorway, made him long to be loved again. As he slowly pulled away from the curb, he noticed the blue jacket on the floor of the truck. One last glance backward and Tony could clearly see the image of a couple swaying and twirling through their kitchen window.