Sunday 24 June 2012

Those Who Turn the Wheels

I was born in 1948, the day after Labour Day - a cold September morning. My mother, always the trooper, distracted herself from the pain through the power of laughter. She put the admittedly amusing fact that she had started having contractions on Labour Day through the wringer and never let me forget it. It was like a pet story for her, a piece of her life that she carried on her chest. A piece that you carry with you forever as a token of the fact that you exist and have touched other peoples' lives. I think everyone needs something like that, something they can hold on to. What is my little story, I wonder? There are a lot of things, and I can only feel that it hasn't come to me yet. I'm running out of time to find it, however.

A little bit about myself, to indulge the gentleman who commented on my last post. My name really is Basil, and honestly, it made me sound like an old man long before I actually became one. I work as an electrician for my local public transit system, and I feel pride in my work. I am one of the cogs that keeps the machine working. My eyes aren't what they used to be, but I have been fortunate enough that my hands are still steady and my mind still sharp. I am married to a lovely woman named Patricia, although I do not live with her at present. I am, in fact, going to go visit her in the hospital in about an hour. I ordered a bouquet of morning glory from a local flower shop to brighten her spirits. I know only one thing that I can do to help her, and that is to tell her that I believe her. I know that she hasn't gone mad or senile, because I saw him too.

It's that, or we've both gone mad. But at least if that's the case, we're together, and I think I would be able to bear it then.

5 comments:

  1. Hier kommt die sonne. I've always loved that string of words.

    You're the same age as my dad, sir....that's the first thing I noticed about you. And....just for the record, I think the way you care about your wife like that is beautiful.

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    1. This wedding ring isn't just a hunk of metal, Lucia. :-)

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  2. ... I kinda like you Basil. And it's a shame to hear we're in... Kind of the same situation. I'm gonna keep an eye on this blog and hope for the best. I'm cheering for you old man.

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    1. Thank you, and I'm cheering for you as well.

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