Wednesday, April 24, 2013

10. this week my pop turned 95. this week my pop went into aged care.

"Happy birthday, dad. Sorry you can't be home for it. But this place is... Nice." He breathes a quick sigh, masking his disappointment with an inward smile. His fingers curl around the hand of the older man in the unfamiliar chair. He's shifting around, uncomfortable by the way the seat just doesn't fit him. He knows it feels wrong.
But he doesn't really know why.

"Yeah. Happy birthday, Grandpa." The younger boy chimes in with an elated smile. He rests his hand on those of his father and grandfather. "Pretty soon you'll be like, a hundred!"

"Pretty soon." His father repeats, exhaling a laugh and shaking his head.

They continue their exchange. And the oldest of them all continues to sit there, wedged somewhere between comfort and discomfort as the words flow before his eyes. But he doesn't really know what to say. To them. About them. About it all. Those two familiar faces are desperately trying to imprint themselves on the unfamiliar backdrop. The only thing he's sure of is that he doesn't like the place, but he can't say that.

So he says nothing. Even after they leave.
Word Count: 190

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