This summer, we asked participants to submit work for the second year in a row as part of our Invite To Write Challenge. Throughout the fall we will share some of these pieces from our prompt, “Another World, Another Time.”
Next up is “Cherrywood” by Wendy Feuer.
Cherrywood
“I am not myself today, “my mother says as we navigate the winding hallways of the Independent Living Wing at Cherrywood Village, looking out for our appointed landmarks— the row of sailboat prints, the potted banana tree with its big floppy leaves, to guide our way.
Once we reach the top of the steep spiral staircase my stomach drops. But my mother perks up and begins her descent, carefully maneuvering each narrow triangular step with finesse, sliding her hand along the polished wooden bannister as it curves around and around and gently slopes downward. I follow clumsily behind her, and soon we both step into the golden light of a quintessential Pacific Northwest summer day.
My 93-year-old mother is looking as sporty as ever decked out in her pair of khakis, slip on sneakers, green and yellow butterfly shirt, and blue windbreaker. The breeze whips through our pant legs, ruffles our bucket hats. You bask in the company of all the wide-open faces of the gorgeous roses that line our path savoring their sweet evanescent fragrance while I scan the sidewalk for tripping hazards—- cracks in the pavement, pebbles, and pine cones, still haunted by the memory of how she fell in the bathroom not too long ago while reaching for her wash cloth. The large gash on her leg that took three months to heal. How she had to wear special shoes large and wide enough to fit her bandaged foot, a walking boot with adjustable straps that made a loud clomping sound. My mother’s skin is now paper thin. Back in her old neighborhood where she lived in the same house for over 40 years she always chose amenities within walking distance, toting her canvas bag with her initials monogrammed in red script. She’d make frequent stops along her way to the Country Mart to chat with neighbors who brightened whenever they saw her familiar face and who warmly greeted her by her nickname, Bunny,
We finally rest in the protective shade of a gazebo on the Cherrywood campus and become transported by the vista, the spacious gentle sloping lawn, the deep red leaves of the cherry trees waving in the breeze, the pine trees in the distance with their tips reaching upwards towards the unbreakable blue sky. I almost feel as if I could spend the rest of my life here simply sitting in this peaceful spot.
But soon it will be time to make our way back. We will return through the automatic doors of the main entrance, climb up the steep spiral staircase, and navigate once again the winding hallways to her apartment where she will rub lotion on her feet and put on her favorite pair of cozy slippers, calling it a day. “See you soon” we will say to each other, and then my mother, refreshed from our walk, with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes, will blow me a kiss goodbye and then remain standing by her door waving and waving until I am out of sight.
