![\"orchid_bud.jpg\"](\"https:\/\/mainecourse.com\/mt\/archives\/images\/orchid_bud.jpg\")
\nMy orchid, which blooms every year at this time, has ten buds. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I carry the box of newspapers and plop them down next to the lawn mower, the lawn chairs, and other assorted junk from my garage. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m multitasking : cleaning the garage and sanding cabinet doors in my adjoining shop. That\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s why I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m wearing hearing protectors, and when Dolly calls, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Michael,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d it only registers as a light tap on my mind\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s door. I pull out the wheel barrow, and this time, hear a harder knock, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Michael.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
I look over to see Dolly framed in the hollow between the row of tall evergreen trees and the skinny dead maple that separate our yards. She rarely crosses my property line, as though that hollow represents a door and she is waiting to be invited in.<\/p>\n
I pull off my earmuffs, wave, and walk over to her.<\/p>\n
Dolly, almost eighty now, is wearing dark pants, a cream colored top that matched her makeup, and a blue jacket. She mostly dresses in navy blue, what I imagine she wore in her youth, when she brushed off those flecks of dandruff and strands of tinted blonde hair.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I never see you anymore,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she says.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I know. I should have trimmed those evergreens when Lew asked. Now we can\u00e2\u20ac\u0161\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t see each other\u00e2\u20ac\u0161\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s houses.”<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153And your truck is so quiet.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
My old truck, my red Nissan, had a metal ladder rack that clanged when I pulled into my bumpy driveway. I hated the noise; I was embarrassed by it. Dolly, who felt safer when I was home, told me it comforted her. <\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I know. It doesn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t wake the neighborhood. What\u00e2\u20ac\u0161\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s up?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153It\u00e2\u20ac\u0161\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s my door. I need you to fix my door.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
Dolly lives in a small cape with weathered shingles that have never been painted. Folks with houses near the sea don\u00e2\u20ac\u0161\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t bother with paint, but instead of flat shingles weathered an ocean gray, hers are mildewed black and brown with curled edges. Not much has been done to the house since her husband, Lew, died, and that was fifteen years ago. We walk up the three steps to her deck over the now soft floor boards. Dolly points to the inner door, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153What do you think?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I pull open the blue screen door with the single rusty, coiled spring, and looked closely at her entry door. The blue paint is still flaking and the windows are still smudged with finger prints. I turn the tarnished brass knob and let go. The door opens as if touched by a spring breeze. <\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153It seems to be okay, Dolly.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Are you sure?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
I open and close it again.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153It works fine. I wish I worked as well.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153What about over here where my sleeve gets caught?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
Dolly points to a recess on the doorframe where maybe a lock for the screen door had been.<\/p>\n
I hesitate, not sure what to say. Of all the repairs her house needs, this isn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t one. <\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153How about this door?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Dolly put her hand on the wooden screen door.<\/p>\n
Relieved we\u00e2\u20ac\u0161\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve moved from the chink in the door frame to something real, I said, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153It\u00e2\u20ac\u0161\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s old, but it works too. I could replace it with an aluminum door with glass. The new self-storing doors look like combination storm windows, but instead of seasonally swapping the screen for the glass, you simply raise one pane of glass in the summer and lower it in the winter.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d As soon as I began, I knew Dolly was lost. I didn\u00e2\u20ac\u0161\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know she was about to have company.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I had to take my cat, Pumpkin, to the vet. She was doing this.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Dolly pretended to pull at her shoulder with her teeth. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153He said Pumpkin was too young when she was… you know.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d(She wouldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t say weaned.) \u00e2\u20ac\u0153He said she was looking for a … .\u00e2\u20ac\u009d(She wouldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t say nipple.)<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153But Pumpkin is okay now?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I would hope so. I clap my hands and she comes. Honest and truly, the neighbors must think, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153That crazy lady.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
That was the last intelligible thread in our conversation. We talked about her cat sucking on something, which led to her granddaughter\u00e2\u20ac\u0161\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s baby, and then to the neighbor walking up the street, back to her cat, to Matt on Halloween, to shopping, to the upcoming winter weather, to her neighbor, Mary. On the surface you might say where\u00e2\u20ac\u0161\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s the gibberish? But imagine writing our dialogue, then cutting the sentences into thin strips, grabbing a handful, and flinging them onto the floor. Pick sentences at random and you have Dolly and Mike.<\/p>\n
Diane tells me this is classic dementia, when someone continually changes thoughts, a sentence at a time, smiling and nodding when it might seem appropriate, but it is not. Except it is I, who smiles and nods.<\/p>\n
I try bringing us back.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Dolly, look at Mary\u00e2\u20ac\u0161\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s house. Her storm windows work like your new storm door would.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Only Dolly\u00e2\u20ac\u0161\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s blank stare can compete with mine.<\/p>\n
I gave up.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153By the way, how is Mary? I never see her.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153She doesn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t leave her house.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153How does she eat?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I buy her milk.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
I imagine a cat. I also picture one widow who no longer makes much sense taking care of a widow whose car has been tarped for three years. I need something solid to lean against, and this porch isn’t it. <\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve got to go Dolly, but I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll take care of your storm door.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
Not long ago, our talks would end on Dolly\u00e2\u20ac\u0161\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s porch. Now Dolly imitates Mary. The conversation speeds up when it\u00e2\u20ac\u0161\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s over. I walk backwards past her clothesline and the scrawny apple tree, smiling as Dolly chases after me with her voice. I pause at the skinny dead maple, nod as if I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve understood her, and wave one last time. <\/p>\n
\nMy orchid, which blooms every year at this time, has ten buds. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I carry the box of newspapers and plop them down next to the lawn mower, the lawn chairs, and other assorted junk from my garage. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m multitasking : cleaning the garage and sanding cabinet doors in my adjoining shop. That\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s … Continue reading