The Lady in the Wheelchair
I used to see her almost daily. It started a couple of years ago. I used to go to my local library every weekday afternoon to write. I have always loved libraries. The smell of a library makes my fingers itch to write.
I was driving there one Spring afternoon and saw a woman sitting in a wheelchair in front of one of the houses down the block from the library. The driveway was long and flat and she sat at the end of it, close to the house, in a spot of sunshine. She was smiling. I remember that.
I saw her the next day and the next. After that, it was raining and she wasn't there. The next week, I decided to wave to her since she seemed to be smiling right at me.
I slowed the car and waved. She waved back.
We did this every day. All through the Spring and into the Summer. I noticed that her hair was no longer long and dark, but had grayed and was wispy. She almost always wore it tucked up into a cap. I was recovering from chemo and radiation treatment and knew what that meant. I almost pulled into the driveway a few times, but was shy and decided not to do so. Perhaps she didn't want company. And I didn't want to scare her, although she never failed to wave and smile.
The Autumn came and she was still there nearly every day, except wrapped up in a blanket, wearing a heavy sweater and hat. By that time, I had named her Sondra in my head. I would talk about her to T at dinnertime.
"Sondra was looking pretty good today."
"I think she just really likes being in the sun. She doesn't come out much on the cloudy days."
And then it was Winter. I didn't see her at all. Finally it was March and the days were playing tag with the sun and warmth. Some days you could feel the Spring in the air, others were so cold that it felt as if Winter would never let us go.
She was there again but she was much smaller, it seemed to me. She looked tired. Her waving was not as enthusiastic. I began to think that I really needed to stop. I would plan to stop but then the day would be cloudy and cold and she wouldn't be out. Sometimes she wasn't even out on the sunny days.
And then I got sick. Very sick. Leukemia sick. Went into the hospital for nearly a month. When I got out, I was in treatment and could not get to the library. My treatment was brutal. I had to be infused every day. I was usually home by mid afternoon, but frankly, had no desire to drive anywhere. I generally went right to bed and stayed there.
Finally, it was a year later and I was in remission. I drove to the library and hopefully looked for Sondra. She wasn't there. There was a SOLD sign in the yard.
I never saw her again. Now, a family lives in that house. I know this because they built three snowmen this year. They were beautiful snowmen, complete with top hats and black buttons. Pine cone eyes.
I wish so badly that I had stopped to talk to the lady in the wheelchair now. I would have asked her what her story was and I bet it was a good one.
But, anyway....I think she would like it that there are snowmen in her yard.
I was driving there one Spring afternoon and saw a woman sitting in a wheelchair in front of one of the houses down the block from the library. The driveway was long and flat and she sat at the end of it, close to the house, in a spot of sunshine. She was smiling. I remember that.
I saw her the next day and the next. After that, it was raining and she wasn't there. The next week, I decided to wave to her since she seemed to be smiling right at me.
I slowed the car and waved. She waved back.
We did this every day. All through the Spring and into the Summer. I noticed that her hair was no longer long and dark, but had grayed and was wispy. She almost always wore it tucked up into a cap. I was recovering from chemo and radiation treatment and knew what that meant. I almost pulled into the driveway a few times, but was shy and decided not to do so. Perhaps she didn't want company. And I didn't want to scare her, although she never failed to wave and smile.
The Autumn came and she was still there nearly every day, except wrapped up in a blanket, wearing a heavy sweater and hat. By that time, I had named her Sondra in my head. I would talk about her to T at dinnertime.
"Sondra was looking pretty good today."
"I think she just really likes being in the sun. She doesn't come out much on the cloudy days."
And then it was Winter. I didn't see her at all. Finally it was March and the days were playing tag with the sun and warmth. Some days you could feel the Spring in the air, others were so cold that it felt as if Winter would never let us go.
She was there again but she was much smaller, it seemed to me. She looked tired. Her waving was not as enthusiastic. I began to think that I really needed to stop. I would plan to stop but then the day would be cloudy and cold and she wouldn't be out. Sometimes she wasn't even out on the sunny days.
And then I got sick. Very sick. Leukemia sick. Went into the hospital for nearly a month. When I got out, I was in treatment and could not get to the library. My treatment was brutal. I had to be infused every day. I was usually home by mid afternoon, but frankly, had no desire to drive anywhere. I generally went right to bed and stayed there.
Finally, it was a year later and I was in remission. I drove to the library and hopefully looked for Sondra. She wasn't there. There was a SOLD sign in the yard.
I never saw her again. Now, a family lives in that house. I know this because they built three snowmen this year. They were beautiful snowmen, complete with top hats and black buttons. Pine cone eyes.
I wish so badly that I had stopped to talk to the lady in the wheelchair now. I would have asked her what her story was and I bet it was a good one.
But, anyway....I think she would like it that there are snowmen in her yard.
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