It was a long dirty hallway that led through corridor and lounge, and then another corridor and lounge, sprawling ahead of us like a circling race track that led us through the retirement home.
A cold cafeteria type room with desks surrounded by four chairs. A lone piano with yellow keys. A worn metal bowl held by old hands. Weary sets of eyes focused on our youthfulness. These were thing things that awaited us in the room that longed to be filled with joy and music.
Empty faces full of pain and boredom started to light up. Old boots with tattered laces began to bounce up and down. There was the lady with the funny hat that just wanted to dance, and the one who was thrilled to sit and clap. The man that soaked in the presence through closed eyes and the two random kids who tried to be as disturbing as possible.
Terry found his place back in preaching, Jarred enjoyed having the option of keys or strings on which to make music. Ness was awestruck by the level of love when a woman just passing in the hallway removed Ness’s glove and placed a ring from her own wrinkled hand onto Ness’s slim finger.
What was it about that place that seemed to just lack life? Was it the old age? Was it the dirt? The smell? The ware and tare? Was it the people themselves? Whatever it was that was there, we tried to bring a little of that which was lacking and paste it upon the previous dryness
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