Leaving Paradise

 Leaving Paradise 

Uncle Albert asked me to do three things before I left today: sweep the front porch and walk; fill the bird feeders; put my sheets, pillowcase and towel in the wash. I did the sheets first, then filled the feeders, then swept the walk and the front porch.

     I came in the front door, put the broom away in the closet. My suitcase was packed, sitting beside the couch. I said,

     “I need to get going, I guess. My plane leaves at eleven, and – what is it? – an hour and a quarter to the airport.”

     He said, “I don’t know really. Sounds right.” He had both hands on top of his cane, climbing up out of his chair. I walked over. He waved his hand as he got his feet under him. He didn’t want help. But I hadn’t walked over to help him.

     Now he extended his hand, as I knew he would. I shook it.

     I went to get my bag. He continued standing.

     Hand on the front door knob, I looked over my shoulder; I said, “Till next time, Uncle A.”

     He nodded. “Au revoir,” he said.

And that was that.

07.30.16