Elderly
Today I walked through a familiar door into a familiar place, past faces, some of which hinted at recognition, and others that didn't. I stopped by an elderly home to deliver cards to the residents I usually play bingo with. The problem is, I'm a faces person, not particularly adept with names. So I stopped by my friend Cheryl's room for some help with names. And as I walked down sterile white halls, smelling the generic smells from the cafeteria, passing nurses and people in wheelchairs, some missing limbs, others missing sight or understanding, I felt like what I was doing wasn't enough. Cheryl helped me out with the names and I stayed and visited with her. I've played bingo there for a few years and she, and the other residents, have changed considerably in that time. She is older, more fragile, her arms darkened with bruises, the table next to her bed littered with a vast array of items. The cellphone next to her and the TV on the wall clamor with nois