Tropically arrayed with color and palm trees, we always weaved through a flower jungle to get to the front porch. Country music played on the front porch and wooden chimes clucked to the music's beat. Martha's place. Though we lived next door to our family friend-our welcoming routine warmed us through the years. Things changed over time, though.
This visit held no excitement or warmth for us. No music played. The wind chimes rested, and we waited impatiently.
No, this time she didn't greet us on the porch at all. Instead, as the door opened, and I looked past her elderly mom to find her. My friend. She had changed. She was not the friend I used to know. I didn't know this person. I missed my friend, even though I looked at her.
She lay frail and small in her bed in the middle of the dim living room. Her majestic request of what we would like to drink and snack on echoed in my mind only. Her smile: vanished. Instead of greetings and background music, an eerie silence nagged at my heart. Emptiness gripped me.
Fighting back, I picked up her hand, kissed her cheek and tried to encourage her. Inside I crumbled. Outside I smiled, hoping to give back warmth.
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