I hadn’t come to realize until now how special and inspiring it is for someone to bestow their life experiences on you to open up and provide one with the gift of important memories, experiences and lessons that shape who they are today. But now I do. When I was in fourth grade it started with a school visit to a nursing home It ended with the ceremony of a bench being placed it still is there today. The plaque was engraved with a simple message. In Honor of the Students That Make Wallingford Elementary. What it is insert name here I was about nine or ten talking with my friends on the bus ride to the Martins Run nursing home. All of us were in the Gifted Seminar at Wallingford Elementary and one of the extracurricular activities we had started was to collect seniors' stories and compose our own fictional pieces based on their life narratives. The bus hissed as the air brakes let out a sigh of a complaint. We arrived Walking up to the rotunda I admired the large poinsettias in the window and the winter cabbages dusted with frost. We stepped inside. The automatic doors squealed and a burst of warm dry air sprayed me in the face. The receptionist greeted us with a smile. Hey Welcome to Martin’s Run. Are you guys visiting some of our residents. We nodded a reply.
Her cat-eyed glasses framed her round face as she gestured us toward the playing card room. It was awkward being spread amongst the seniors mingling in the musty room, their recollections of their lives hindered by wandering focus. To our younger selves, they seemed almost like foreign creatures. Although we had grandparents and great aunts and uncles or great grandparents this was a different experience at least for me. Someone was celebrating their 101st birthday. The nurses quietly sang happy birthday while the rest of us talked with the seniors. It was fairly boring all of us only making icebreaker conversation I brought a small notebook with me that was college-ruled no match for my large and messy handwriting. The partner I was assigned to was Mrs. Blum. She was around 76 years old and had a hard time hearing but that made up for the interesting story she told of when she cared for US soldiers at the time of the Gulf War. I was excited to meet the seniors but it was uncomfortable having to repeat phrases constantly. Eventually, they burst out with stories not caring their words were repeated or stammered I didn't either. After a couple of moments of me accidentally spacing out to the droning voices the aides reappeared thanking us for coming and ushering us to the buses. Our short first visit came to an end. A few weeks later we visited again.
A new senior joined us and his name was Mr. Cherry. He was peppier than the other seniors and was full of positive energy. We all introduced ourselves to him and he complimented us on how bright and intuitive we were. After the few icebreakers, he told us about his eventful life. And then I saw the most beautiful woman I had ever seen I knew at once she would be my wife. He then gave his spouse a little peck on the cheek. Now whos up for some ice cream. He led us to the food court and bought all of us treats. We ate the cones sloppily smothered in napkins as they were melting rapidly in the uncomfortably warm room. On the bus ride back to school I thought about Mr. Cherry. Different from the other seniors his spark of zest was still alive. I wondered why he was in an assisted living facility but I had failed to notice how fragile Mrs. Cherry was the oxygen tubes draped on her periwinkle blue blouse and her wheelchair. A few days later at our next seminar meeting, Ms. Wile exclaimed to us that you guys made such a large impact on Mr. Cherry that he decided to dedicate a bench in honor of pulling out the form he wrote, she proclaimed In honor of the wonderful children that make Wallingford Elementary what it is. But not only that he included money for ice cream The atmosphere changed the next visit we had Ms. Wile explained to us that Mrs. Cherry was put into hospice a few days after the last visit and passed away soon after. It was strange not having Mr. Cherry there but I continued talking to my partner. Ms. Blum about her life experiences.
At this point I mostly had my story sketched out It was about a nurse Scarlett who had cared for men in the war I decided not to distinctly state which and one specific man George had severe PTSD, but then started to embark on his recovery upon meeting and bonding with a kitten, Scarlett found at a shelter. The fluffy and furry finicky flummoxed feline was apparently very judgy. A direct quote from my narrative draft the cat was still there looking at me with sarcasm. Seriously, You realize I have nowhere else to go so why are you running as if there was a mob of people chasing you. It was a work in progress. By now it was the end of the school year mid-April and all of the students and teachers were psyched for summer. I had finished my story and it was displayed on the bulletin board outside of Ms. Wile's classroom. Today was the day of the bench the new outside landscaping being unveiled. As they cut the ribbon tied around the bench I immediately felt a sentimental attachment to it. Even though the bench was an inanimate object made of composite wood I thought The date on it marks my 4th-grade year the story I wrote I took other people’s history and created something of my own I have made such an impact on someone else’s life for there to be a concrete memory in place there. Whenever I pass that bench I think of it as a physical reminder of the impact of my presence in the world. Albeit not an incredibly large or widespread impact it still matters to me. He passed away after that Ms. Wile was notified by Martin’s Run the week when Mr. Cherry was in hospice. He wanted to see us for the last time. On Saturday morning my mom drove to Martin’s Run for me to say goodbye. We arrived with mostly everyone else but it was too late. The nurses came out teary-eyed wishing us a good weekend. I gave them my bouquet of flowers and the condolence card I made with the bench on it. I cried the way home When I remember.
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