Ding Ding
“Please share a silent moment with me before we share breakfast…. Thank you. Enjoy your day!”
I weave my way around the tables in the dining room, narrowly missing chairs and bleary-eyed diners as I snag my French toast and oatmeal. Not everybody has already been up for an hour and a half. I pass Roma, the oldest member of our community who’s been here since the ‘20s. She shouts my name and shudders as I make my way outside to the picnic table. At least she’s not announcing that I’m a bad boy today.
KTL, a social worker on our clinical team, sets Roma’s breakfast before her, a morning ritual since Roma has become unsteady on her feet the past couple of years. I sneak a glance to their corner table as I thread my way back outside with a fresh glass of orange juice in my hand.
The nonagenarian pokes at her plate. “French toast!” she announces to the room. “Parlez-vous?” she mumbles to herself.
5 comments:
Oh that was a good one.. dear sweet Roma... She knows more than all of us, doesn't she?
Breakfast outside? Mmmm... Maybe I'll have my Vanilla frosted mini wheats outside in keeping with tradtion - course, it will be 85 out at 9 tomorrow, but no matter. OH, and I haven't had to use a sweater/jacket/coat of any kind since I hightailed out of MA in early June.
All of that sounds wonderful: Breakfast at MH, getting up early, hearing Roma's crazy mumblings, even french toast doesn't sound bad...although, my favorite things would have been hearing Roma yell that you are a bad boy.
Remember my hand slap routing? "Bad bad bad dirty boy!?" Ha ha ha...I wonder if Roma used to do that routine back in her day!?
YUCKO! Ha ha...thought you might enjoy this blog that my friend here wrote about...comparing the womb to a microwave:
http://raktheworld.blogspot.com/
I never could handle Roma's random shoutings in the morning. (See "Kt is Not a Morning Person.") But then, I never could handle morning anouncements, or the song, or that dinging dinging never ending ding of the ding bell. DING. Aaa!
Oh glorious freedom of sleeping in past 8am! Is there such a thing, perhaps, as a night farmer?
Post a Comment