"Getting old is hard! You never get used to it."
I wish you could have heard the emotion in this woman's voice when she said this. She had just told us that while her body is fine, she feels like her mind is slipping.
The other woman, a good ten years younger than the first--tall and beautiful, well put-together, says, "Especially when it get's dark at four o'clock and you're alone. That's why I read so much!"
Their words took my breath away as I bent to check in a pile of books.
So, Phyllis and Dot, as you "sit on a while alone," know that today, you were heard. Thank you for speaking your truth.
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They Sit Together on the Porch
by Wendell BerryThey sit together on the porch, the darkAlmost fallen, the house behind them dark.Their supper done with, they have washed and driedThe dishes–only two plates now, two glasses,Two knives, two forks, two spoons–small work for two.She sits with her hands folded in her lap,At rest. He smokes his pipe. They do not speak,And when they speak at last it is to sayWhat each one knows the other knows. They haveOne mind between them, now, that finallyFor all its knowing will not exactly knowWhich one goes first through the dark doorway, biddingGoodnight, and which sits on a while alone.
From "A Timbered Choir", by Wendell Berry. Copyright © 1998. Published and reprinted by arrangement with Counterpoint Press, a member of the Perseus Books Group (www.perseusbooks.com). All rights reserved.