Life
Anza is deeply depressed
by , 06-25-2008 at 09:05 PM (1719 Views)
No, it is not David. There's a little old woman who lives across the street from us by the name of Miss Perry-- "Miss" because her husband died years ago. Every time I think about her, or see her checking the mail and such in her forlorn, outdated clothes something inside of me weeps. The thing is that it's so much worse when I don't see her. You see, every holiday there appears a card or gift on our front steps like clockwork. Miss Perry delivers flowers, too, when her confederate roses bloom. She cares so well about others, but I'm not sure there's a soul in the world who cares about her.
I think I shall bake her something tomorrow morning, and maybe make a pitcher of iced tea and pay her a visit. I've meant to for quite some time-- on Mother's day when not a single car pulled up to her driveway, at Valentine's day when her clockwork-timed card appeared, at the beginning of spring, when her roses materialized as usual. But I never got around to it. A failed excuse, I'm sure, which is part of why it depresses me so.
I remember when I was little and one Saturday all my chores were through. As I was playing in the front yard with Sunny and Daddy did yard work a strange woman appeared. She was grandmotherly, and wore her same sad clothes. Daddy gave her an excuse that we had chores to do and ushered us inside. "She could talk all day" he warned. But even at that age I saw no danger-- no need of warning. She was only lonely; left out in the rain and reaching out to anyone who would care.
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