Storytelling Poll Round 3

onyxelle

The sun's rays bounced upward off of the chrome handlebars of a bicycle that would be ordinarily not mentioned - not in this story, or perhaps any other. The rays, in turn, gave a certain young man - Gus, let's call him - a headache (by way of bright natural light directly into his irises). The sun is bright and the heat is unbearable…Gus throws his knapsack across his shoulders and heads up the street. He is determined to make it to his destination without delay. He steps off the bus and goes to the counter. Questions are asked, answered and soon he is out the door. He would be able to walk quicker if it weren't for the sudden headache come upon him, and he can't place the beginnings of it. Gus isn't sure if the headache began while he was on the bus, listening to the incessant chatter of the old woman whom he'd allowed to share his seat. Gus thought she must be someone's grandmother. She knitted (or crocheted, Gus wasn't sure of the difference) while she prattled on endlessly, or, if it began when he stepped off and was nearly blinded by the sun's brightness. He shakes his head and continues up the street making a mental note to get some Aleve. He walks with a gait that is steady but not too slow.

He was limping three days ago when he'd left, but he notices the absence of that limp as he makes his way onward. He is not very mental - not much of a deep thinker - but he likes to ?'remember things'. Seeing that bicycle brought to the forefront of his mind the picture of his home three days ago.
He was back in his living room - furnished in taupes and beiges and other earthy colors his mother used to ?'warm the house up' and as he saw the colors he saw his mother crying. Standing in that smallish space between the dinning room and the kitchen, that area that was open all the time with no doors. It is too small to e a room and to large to be a ?'walkway'. His mother stood in that place (he could see the chrome bicycle that she'd just bought for his sister) shedding tears - asking him why he was leaving and where he was going. She got no definitive answers from him, but admonished him through tears and sniffles to be careful. "Keep your eyes open." "Be safe." "Lock your doors." He finally let her words of mothering taper off and thin out until they became the words of adults in a televised version of the "Peanuts" strip.


She always fawns, he thought, as he floated back to the present day. His eyes string with every droplet of wet salt springing up onto his forehead and sliding downhill. He uses the back of his hand to wipe away what he can and curses the macho youth that wouldn't let him bring the small box of Kleenex is mother had tried to push onto him. He checked his watch for the first time that afternoon and realized if he kept at this pace he could make it to the Wendy's he'd been told was just around the corner and back to the Station in time to catch a bus.
The young man smiles when he considers he's only 5 hours away from a life of his own. He's got lodging, having paid three months rent and he's got some bachelor type furniture (a bed, a sofa and a few boxes and crates with clothes and memories stuffed into them). He even has a job waiting for him. He's got the best years of his life planned and plans on living it far away from the Mother Hen. He reaches Wendy's and orders the special new sandwich to the he'd spotted on billboards while he was on the bus and heads back down to the Station. He has timed it very well and arrives at the Station less than 10 minutes before the bus begins to board and when it's his turn he heads straight to the back. His objective is to avoid anyone else's grandmother on his four hour bus ride.


He alternates between falling asleep and waking up staring out of the window for the first hour as the bus lumbers down one of the asphalt veins of the Northern East coast. He is asleep when the bus pulls into the next station and an uninvited passenger sits next to him. After the bus pulls out he awakens slowly and notices that his new seat partner is an older gentleman, intently focused with his attention in a book. After thirty minutes of shared silence the stranger speaks to the young traveler and they fall into easy conversation about their destination - both heading to the same place. The seat partner gives the young man a card with a phone number on it so they might keep in touch, explaining that that's so much easier than rattling off a series of numbers and expecting anyone to remember them or write them down immediately.

As they exit the bus after arriving to their station, the young man asks his uninvited seat partner turned buddy about a ring he's been admiring on the seat partner's left fore finger the man simply says that he earned it a while back, tells him to call and they both walk on toward his destination.

A week has passed…

The young man is on his way to the grocery store and thinking about his tendency to step in or fall over various things that lie on the ground. He takes a look at the sidewalk before him every so often and on one of these glances downward he sees several bent up, dirty and scratched up cards - with phone numbers just like the one he's yet to call - since he hasn't gotten his phone turned on yet. He crouches down and begins to pick up the cards when he notices the object of his admiration lying in a crack in the sidewalk. He also finds a green envelope that he'd not seen while standing, as it blends in with the grass. The envelope is addressed to someone on the east side of town from someone on the south side and is already postmarked.

The curiosity of the young man is a little more than piqued, and he calls his friend's number. There is no answer. The young man ignoring the Mother Hen's advice and admonishes, he decides to pay the sender a visit and see what, if anything, they might know about his newfound friend.

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Thank you Eva a beautiful touching story...I have worked with alzheimer pts....so I am a little biased..
But still it brought a tear to my eye.

Eva wins Round 3!

Congrats!!