Baggy Grey Pants

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Wandering down the hall not really looking at much more than my feet there are the baggy grey pants dragging on the floor and the memory of an old woman. She was 60 something and getting ready for bed; head hanging low. Her hair gray now and a once beautiful smile now a permanent frown.

What happened to all the years? She was happy once. Married with children and dreaming of grand kids dancing and tugging on her apron.

Sad lonely pensive old senior womanThere was a time when her life was like mine. Fresh, challenging and ever-changing, and weekends filled with celebrations. While he used to beat her, she never let the kids know. She never cried when anyone was around. Her steps slowed. She took her time with everything she did. It seemed that she wanted to be sure everything was perfect. No errors, no room for criticism. He used to slap the kids. He used to call her by names not hers. But the table was set at 6pm every night.

What happened to those years growing up? Playing war games in the fields, building forts and chewing sugar cane?

Wandering down the hall getting ready for bed, I looked down and saw the old woman walking slowly and I wondered for a moment when I became just like her.

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