“How was your golf game?” he asked.
For the fourth time I replied, “I didn’t play golf.”
“But you went to the country club, didn’t you?”
“Yes, dear, but it was to a luncheon. I was asked to photograph the fashion models.”
Painfully, he turned his pale eyes and unshaved face towards me.
“Did you hit ‘em good?”
© Copyright 2016 Barb Bland. All rights reserved.
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Barb Bland retired to Whidbey Island, Washington from Alaska and is a member of Whidbey Writers Group. Running Free is her memoir recounting adventures transforming a feral dog into a trusted family pet.
7 thoughts on “Loss by Barb Bland”
Ah, sad. I think by this point I’d just say “Yes, I hit ’em good.”
You put a human face on a heartbreaking situation.
I don’t know I wish I could figure out what’s going on in this one. Sounds like another story of dementia.
Is he dense? just doesn’t listen? or does the poor man have dementia?
Obviously, Lynn, you don’t know this kind, beloved man. Be kind.
But…this is micro FICTION, so everyone is going to view the character differently.
Okay…I apologize to Lynn for being personal, that’s not like me. But the woman (character) did show sensitivity by being patient and calling him dear meaning he is just not somebody. It hit me too close to home.