Aging Archives - The Pure Life of Dreams

August 29, 2024August 30, 2024

Dad is in Paris in a Hospital for the Insane

I am in Paris to visit Dad in hospital and Mum only walks downhill.

I’m searching up where the hospital is, while sitting in a café.

A French woman is with me. We’ve been there for some time, talking. The iron lacework tables and chairs are painted white, like the walls of the café, which is bright and sun filled.

The woman sits at the table as I type out the name of his hospital. She has a sick parent there too and I know it is my chance to chat her up but it has been a long while since I did anything like that.

Her hair is short cropped and black, and I think she would be OK with me flirting but still I’m hesitant. Yes, even though she is cute I feign being unbothered about chatting her up.

We sit there for a long time.

There are three senior citizen hospitals in the Île de la Cité, I tell the woman. I speak about my Dad in the ward, about its white walls with its large windows like a hospital for the insane, though I don’t mention the last part.

She gets up to leave.

I know she’s going because I haven’t attempted to flirt with her but I’m adamant that it was easier to not flirt; despite losing out; despite the fact that we had common interests, what with both of us having a parent in the loony bin.

After she’s gone Mum and my sister come in to the café. The table’s a mess, with my computer and phone and iPad spread across it. Under the table is my two tone leather briefcase with the square handles.

Mum and. Elaine pull back two of the iron clad chairs and sit with me. They’ve just arrived so only I know how to get to the hospital where Dad is, I tell them.

Then we set off, my computer folded under my arm, out of the café and onto a cobbled street.

Mum heads off down the hill. She only does that because she has difficulty walking uphill.

No it’s not that way, I call out to her.

Downhill is easier, she says.

It’s up the hill. Sorry, I repeat, then we have to take the second exit of the roundabout.

I want to walk but because of her we’ll have to take the bus. And once we get to the bus stop we’ll have to figure out the ticketing system.

But we don’t have to wait long – the tram comes quickly and we get on.

We need centimes, I tell Mum, as she fiddles in her purse.

She pulls out a pile of coins but they are mostly quarters, and a few pennies.

Who has coins these days? I complain.

Then I realize that I am only carrying my computer. I left my other stuff behind!

Before the tram sets off I get out.

Go on ahead without me, I tell them, and I hurry back down the hill to the café.

I walk back in and the manager, who stands at a lectern by the entrance, her body facing away from the door, nods at the table I was sitting at.

I hurry over to the table.

My briefcase is still there, as well as my tablet and my coat. It is all there.

I also see my black iPhone, next to my notebooks. I didn’t realize I’d forgotten those, but anyway I’m relieved.

There is the familiar smell of Sunday morning bacon as, from the bright light of the walls, I stir from my sleep.

Photo by David Iliff via WikiMedia Commons.

March 17, 2023March 18, 2023

Ambulance Needed, Corner of High Street and Thai

An ambulance is coming along the high street towards the junction where, on the corner, there sits a Thai restaurant. The ambulance is out of view but its sirens are wailing, and I am standing, around the corner, on the cross street a few yards down.

I look across the road at the restaurant’s floor-to-ceiling window, where the waitress leans.

March 2, 2023May 2, 2023

No Longer Fit for the Party

I am in Paris in the banlieues and I am going to a party. Or at least I think I was invited. And I am parking my car on a deserted dusty brown and ill-lit side street. There are no other cars at first but when I park I find myself trying to squeeze in between a white van and a blue car. I have to shift my car back and forth to maneuver it into the space.

Once I am satisfied I get out, but my car is bumpered up against the blue car behind me.

The definition of curb and road is poorly defined as if it is a construction site and the dust of the concrete has blurred the partition.

It will do, I think, as I walk away, even though I see that I am a good two feet from the curb.

So I walk to the party, somebody’s house, and there are students there, a younger crowd, different nationalities, and they are having a good time. In one room, a few are lying on the floor under a beige duvet, laughing as they throw pillows on top of each other.

I go to another room, I think the kitchen, and a woman in a black dress, loose-fitting, says something to me about her phone but I am not paying attention. I see her breasts pop out from her dress, they are small and pert, with dark brown nipples. Her breasts are too small for her dress, and she looks annoyed or uncomfortable that I saw that. She pulls up the strap of her dress and walks away.

I lean out the window, look out at the houses opposite. Each balcony is brightly colored with sheets and shirts hung up on clotheslines. It looks homely, but happy, with an ease, the same ease as the people at the party.

Then it dawns on me, I don’t love my life. ~~Wife.~~

I return to the room where they are throwing the pillows, but I don’t fit in, I need to leave and I pull out my phone to see the way. Only it is not my phone, it is square with a blue screen and it has a different provider so I take it back to the woman with the black dress.

Black dress thinks that I took it from her, I can tell. She has an Irish accent. As she steps away I see she has a black wart on her back, just above her left shoulder blade.

These people are having fun, they love each other, or are comfortable, and I know I don’t belong. I sour the party. So I pull out my own phone this time and pull up the map. And the map’s locations are in French with some Arabic but the phone has only 1% battery and I need to hurry.

Back outside I am looking for my car and the streets are filled with life, new stalls brightly lit, people heading somewhere, or browsing, or with dinner plans, or rendezvous, or other parties to go to. I walk past them to my car only it is not where I thought it would be. There is a different line of cars, even on the dark street where I thought I’d parked.

I return to the main street, then back again to double check, but my car is not to be found. And I go up to a stall decorated with purple and white awnings advertising medical options or a pharmacy, I cannot tell. A white mortar and pestle are painted on the awning.

The owner is closing up but I duck under the awning to get some light on my phone. As I pull up the map I realize that I cannot get home without it. I’ve never been to this part of Paris before and I won’t be able to intuit my way back.

And the phone now indicates 0%.

I don’t want to, but my only choice is to return to the party to charge it even a little.

Photo by Viktor Solomonik on Pexels

February 9, 2023February 9, 2023

Beware these Restaurants in Chinatown

I am driving to Alexandria, Chinatown, with Lizzie for some good Chinese food. The road after the bridge is very steep, maybe 40 degrees, but it is straight up. I think the car will manage. But Lizzie goes on ahead, she’s faster, with her little black Vespa.

And I am trying to shout directions from my car but she continues to climb further away.

October 29, 2022November 4, 2022

Down by the River in New York City

After a brief rain shower, I am cycling around New York City, gleaming cobbled streets on a bright sun filled afternoon.

Here to visit mum, I left my stuff with her in lower Manhattan before I set off with the racer. I have to be careful with its thin tires but nevertheless I am pulling the bike expertly up hills to discover new side streets, while still dodging large pothole puddles.