Creative Non-Fiction Short Stories. :) Travel, Oldsters, Love, and Compassion.
She parks in the first spot outside Arby’s, and he waits patiently in the passenger side, readying his oxygen tank as she comes slowly around the long Buick. She wrestles with his walker, which seems to want to stay in the backseat. He makes loops with the tube between his nose and the tank, he adjusts the shoulder strap, he nods patiently as she exclaims something just before the walker comes free. She unfolds it to stay upright, soft cloth over the places where he will rest his hands, then opens his door and helps him out. A gust of wind blows her grey curls, but she secures him before patting her hair back into place. He begins his slow trek inside as she locks the door and shuts it. She peers at the car to be sure everything is in order, then takes two quick steps to catch up.
She holds the door for him these days. And as her husband moves into the restaurant, she tucks his blue dress shirt into his back of his pants. It was just a bit untucked and she couldn’t help herself. He stopped and turned his head toward her slowly, as though he might chastise her for picking at him, for grooming him while he was unable to counter the maintenance. But he didn’t. He leaned toward her and she leaned in as if to hear him. Then he kissed her on the cheek, like an old couple in a commercial. She shrugged, flustered, and held open yet another door. How lovely to see in real life! How lovely to catch–at a gas station Arby’s on a Sunday morning–such an enviable love.
–Exit 312, Nebraska