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Class supplies

24 Jun

He had his spiral notebook,  an assortment of pens in his pocket protector  and  just in case they got picky, he even had some old number 2 pencils.   These were what he had brought with him the first time he went away to live, in a college dorm, so he figured this was gonna be pretty much the same thing.    “Of  Course,”  he thought to himself, with a rare sharp insight,  “Since everything  gets done by computers in this day and age, they will probably laugh at the pencils.”   But then again, one never knew.

His bags had been packed for quite sometime.  His daughter had seen to that as she was perhaps more ready for the move than he.   Not only had she packed him up she had also cleaned the house around him.   He had sat in his old worn lazy-boy watching and she, being the whirling dervish that she was, had dusted, polished, wiped, moped and generally tried to remove any trace of his existence in the home he had known for 50 years.  His home, now to become hers.   He wondered if  he would get to come home over the holidays or if there would be a spring break after exams.  He guessed there would be exams, though with a smile he sighed, probably  medical not educational.  Well, he had his class supplies just in case.

He wondered if his dorm room would be light, airy and on the first floor  and if his room-mate, should there be one, would be into sports as much as he was.  Of course if his room-mate was a geek, he could get him to show him how to work one of them newfangled computers. Then  he could do away with the pens and notebook and just type his letters to the folks back home.  Not that he would miss his folks or anything, but he knew he  would have to  write home asking  for spending  money from the ole’  man, wouldn’t he?    Hell, he was old enough to date and maybe they would give him his license back, since he was in school and all, and he could then go to the malt shop or the drive in movies.  Boy, that would be fun.

He reckoned he was as ready as he was ever going to be for this final move. He had made his daughter promise to pack everything on his list.  She said she had done so and had returned the list to him with little tiny check marks next to every item on the notebook page.   Yep,  he had everything he needed, his clothes, his multiple bottles of pills, his school supplies and what was left of his clouded and confused  mind.

Words, Inc., Wednesday:
(1) spiral, (2) pocket

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Posted by on June 24, 2010 in Alzheimers, Flash Fiction

 

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