The Red Chair, Older Adult

"There it is at the end of the hall. I see it clearly. How long will it take me to reach it? I remember, just last, how easily that distance was reached. Now it teaks me longer because my steps have gotten shorter. But I don’t mind, I know what I want it is at the end of the hall.

It’s funny because I always thought time moved so slowly. The waits and the plans only heightened time’s slow pace. All the special events never seemed to arrive and when they finally did, they left just as quickly. Thinking back on them now, it seems like two lifetimes ago instead of my own one. All the time that has passed. Wow.

My steps may be slower now but I see it; boy, it looks nice and no one else is around. I know I can reach it if I just continue forward.

I always thought not knowing was worse than knowing. Yet, why do I need to know all my medical numbers and percentages?

I find there is more mystery to my life than I ever thought possible. And I like that. The mystery of life, death, time, eternity…it all seems so familiar yet mysterious to me now. I remember thinking about how foreign or alien they were to me in my quick-moving life and movements. Now, I know not knowing every fact and detail. It is okay not knowing. What scares me now is whether I will finally be at the end of this hall.

Did the hallway expand since yesterday? I think it did. I think they made it longer last night while I sleeping. I’m not sure of that, though.

The time I spend now is the time I know. I like that a lot. When my yesterdays total more than my tomorrows, I realize that time is holy. It is holy because it is precious. I guess just life itself. Because it is so fragile, it must be valued in a special way, not like anything else we know.

Well, I don’t believe it. I made it. Here it is. All that planning and waiting and here I am already. I wasn’t so bad. Here’s the chair that I eyed a long time ago and that I wish to spend a moment contemplating moments; the holiness of the time my life.

Oh darn, I forget my purse at the end of the hall."