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Resident Author writes “Little Al” 01-27-2022

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“LITTLE AL”   by Joan Nedeau, tenant            January 2022

 

 

Like many of us, I choose to walk indoors, at least until temperatures become more inviting. Some of us travel the halls on wheels. Either way, cruising the hallways has its benefits. Making a decision to mask up and venture out of my apartment into the wider world opens up a vista of possibilities, whether obvious at first, never fail to surprises me with an immediate lift of my spirit, along with a feeling of wellbeing that lasts all day.  Just a simple, “Hi!, Good Morning!” or a wave, I have noticed, sparks a response from someone that assures me life on this planet is still perking. Even if just a simple lift of a head and a nod of recognition seems to add a needed flicker of human connection. We’ve taken down the holiday decorations and entered what some churches call “ordinary time”. Looking back, what was once ordinary a few years ago seems so complex today.  2022, though brand new, looks and sounds like a low budget film that never ends. There is a heaviness in the air, a lack of energy, a weariness as the Pandemic and Winter lumber on.

 

 

I took advantage of today to attack some clutter.  Which led to my sorting through ancient paper piles. In doing so, I discovered this “gem” a poem.  It describes a brief, seemingly uneventful, meeting of two people forty years ago. An encounter, I see, that left an impression on me and kept alive my memory of Alvina.

 

 

 

            LITTLE AL

 

 

An interlude on a long journey,
Nothing startling in the epic of life.
Two creatures meet, and part,
Neither saying much. Knowing,
and yet, not knowing.
An act of spontaneous interplay.
A cast of two passing a moment
In time away.

 

This was the way it was when
she and I met,
We both took a moment and
stood anticipating
Who knows our needs until
we meet them in another.
And are attracted
to open ourselves.
I greeted Alvina

 

When she smiled
I extended my hand.
She took it shyly
then settled in.
We talked, and
I was caught up in musing.
I saw a child so full of sass,
a sparkling elf,
charming elders
of her choosing,
Staunchness in a soft world,
And, though aging,
she walked with a youthful gait.
Her steps quickened beside me,
I thought, “I bet she’s never late.”

 

Joy and strength, elfin spark
and sweet content.
When we parted she
didn’t say much.
Her eyes sought mine,
and the unspoken
was in her touch.

 

Perhaps I was never
to know “Little Al.”
It doesn’t matter.
Just meeting her
Meant a lot to me.
(J. Nedeau)

 

 

 

WHO KNOWS WHEN WE WILL MEET SOMEONE, EVEN BRIEFLY, WHO WILL LEAVE A LASTING IMPRINT ON OUR MEMORIES TO CARRY WITH US INTO THE REST OF OUR LIVES.

 

 

 

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