Today I’m writing for Five Minute Friday, where we write flat out for five minutes, unedited, on a one-word prompt. Join the fun with your own post or just read what others have done with their 300 seconds. Check it out at http://lisajobaker.com/category/five-minute-friday/ Today’s word is Lonely.
I sit in this small apartment, waiting for the weeks to go by until I leave here and go to be reunited with my husband. I’m no longer working; I’ve moved out of my beloved house in my beloved mountains and am crammed in a tiny apartment in the city, where it never gets dark. It’s me and my cat. Waiting. And I feel lonely a lot, so I grab a book and get lost in another world. Or I get in my car and go somewhere – Starbucks, or Target, or, most often, back to the court where I worked for 15 years to work on a special project or have lunch with my friends or just hang out and be annoying.
And it makes me think about my mom, how she was housebound so much of the last five years of her life, unable to drive much because of her health, unable to read because of failing eyesight. It was just her and her dogs and the TV, with me for company in the evenings for an hour or two after I got off work.
I never really took the time to think about how lonely she must have been. If I had, would I have called her during the day just to say hi and break up the monotony for her? Would I have sent her little cards and notes in the mail so that she would have had little surprises to perk her up? Would I have made sure I went over there every single day to see her instead of skipping a day here and there when I was “too tired”?
I’m not beating myself up; I know I was a pretty good daughter and I know I helped make those last years as good as they could be for her.
But as I sit here right now, I think, my own mom might be gone, but there are a lot of other people out there who are aching with loneliness. Why aren’t I doing something about that? I have a dear, dear friend who lives far away, and whose mother lives practically right around the corner from me in an assisted living facility. She’s old, and she’s lonely, and I have all the time in the world. Why am I going to Target and Starbucks instead of over to see her? Why am I not over there every day to say, “Hi, Phyllis!” and give her a hug and a kiss and let her see a different face than the ones she sees day in and day out?
My selfishness stops today.
It takes so very little to ease the ache of a lonely heart.
Please, Lord, help me always remember my mother’s loneliness so that I will always have a heart for the lonely.