Mrs. P
Today, my senior citizen let me go. I no longer need to call her every sunday to get her long list of groceries. I no longer need to deal with the pushy people at the Safeway check-out counter. I no longer need to spend two hours of my day shopping and then driving down by the Hillsdale mall to deliver them to her. I no longer need to worry if I will have enough time to finish my homework. I no longer need to listen to stories about her dead cat or her nephew who is also interested in theater. I no longer need to hear about her travels to Italy and Spain and Mexico when her neck was healthy. I no longer need to think about devastating falls and tragic surgeries that have ruined her neck forever. I no longer need to consider how the American elderly are vastly discriminated against. I no longer need to wonder why she never married and why she still lives alone. I no longer need to think of anyone else's survival but my own.
And somehow, I wish she never let me go.
And somehow, I wish she never let me go.