Ohio Girl

Grandpa and Great Aunt Cleo and Grandma are staring at one another when I arrive. They’ve all known one another for a long time. What else do they possibly have to talk about?

“You” Grandma says pointing into my chest—clever avoidance of my name which she cannot recall.

“Wellllllll,” Cleo remarks. I am not clear if she remembers my name either.

Grandpa manages a few more syllables with a “Looky here.”

“You are just in time for the New Year’s party,” he continues, signaling my arrival will mean his escape.

Cleo is fidgeting in her chair and is ready to go as well. She’s older than Grandma and has already had her car keys removed from her custody. She’d rather not risk being confused for a resident by hanging around too long.

At the party down the hall the New Year has come a couple days early. No one cares. Grandma reviews her party favors and puts on the aluminum foil tiara. It is a suitable piece of party finery. The plastic lei, on the other hand, will not do. That is going too far. A man at the end of the table blows his party horn early and Grandma laughs. Someone else covers their ears with their eyes squeezed shut reliving some bad moment.

Charades gets the party started. One man acts out being a spider. Another does a passable bear. What do you mean by that one woman glares upon being told to be a cat. When Grandma receives her assignment she turns to the table and says, “I’m a puppy.” Everyone claps for the effort.

Soft pretzels and cheese flavored dipping sauce are passed around while the staff pours sparkling cider. “Is that wine?” one man asks with the same face the kids approached their presents on Christmas morning.

“I sure as hell wish it was,” I whisper. Grandma jabs me with her elbow. She caught that one.

Next the staff turn on that song; that same song that is played in every scene of every movie when old folks get together. I know the name but cannot place it. It is too old for most of this crowd who are younger than the WWII set, but did not have enough education or free time for war protesting and free love.

Grandma would rather hear Dion. I know this because back when I was a teen and talked about Bono, my future husband, Grandma brought up Dion—HER future husband. Ick, I thought. The guy across from me, whose mind went well before his body, would like to hear a little Megadeth.

The staff starts handing out strawberry pie and 18 year-old nursing assistants walk by giggling. They still say “Eewwwwww” when they have to change a diaper and have not caught on yet that aging is something that happens to everyone. Unless, of course, you die first.

Finally, the residents are asked to go around and share their New Year’s resolutions. The woman to my right says, “To just keep going on.” A couple folks name weight loss. It seems that quest is never ending. The rest are perplexed into silence which is precisely how I feel about it.