Old Ed Robbins gave a little cry as he scrunched his 94-year old arthritic body to the edge of the mattress, hoping to get to the bathroom in time. After a nearly sleepless night, what with all the discomfort of a degenerating spine, he felt like hell. Then there was Cooper waiting at the door already. Living off of a narrow pension, he couldn’t really afford to pay anyone to walk the Shepherd that had kept him company for the past ten years, so even before heading to the kitchen to get breakfast going, not that he was hungry, he spent the next 40 minutes lasso-ing both feet with his pants sleeves over a back that could bend just so far, dressing, and getting the dog collared and leashed.
Walking along, he noticed vibrant dew drops on the grass and wished he could walk for more than a block to see if the lilies on the slope had opened. But as things went, Ed turned as soon as Cooper was finished. Besides, he had to get on with his day: the bills had to be paid and the French-English dictionary repaired, that is if he hadn’t lost his touch. By noon he was on the recliner, exhausted and strained.
That’s when the phone rang.
“Hi, dad, it’s me, Barbara. How are you today?”
“Oh, hi, honey. I’m good. I’m great. Me and Cooper had a nice long walk in the park, and I’m just about to get some lunch.”
“Great. I heard the weather was beautiful in New York today.”
“Yup. The lilies are just about to open over on the slope. Wish I’d had my camera. What about you? What are you up to?”
“Oh gee, I’m so busy. I’ve got to get a lot of work done today and then start the cooking. We have friends from San Francisco coming in for the weekend.”
“Well, you have a nice time, sweetheart. I’ll get to me soup while it’s hot, but we’ll speak tomorrow.”
“Okay, dad, I love you!”
“Love you too.”
Then old Ed lay his weary bones back down for a snooze, not the least bit interested in the pre-cooked package of food that waited for him in the freezer. Cooper lay by the side of the recliner chair and fell asleep also, listening to the steady midday snore of his best friend. It would be another 24 hours before the phone would ring again.
Irene Zola
