Dreaming

SeasonsHarvey’s eyes lit up when his wife walked through the front door of the nursing home and made her way to where he waited.

“Good morning, Honey,” she said, leaning down to kiss his forehead before settling into a chair beside him.

“I’ve got great news,” he said. Her eyebrows lifted. “I walked last night.”

“You did?” She glanced down at his wheelchair and his limp legs.

“I’ve been practicing,” he said. “I can show you.”

“Uh, well—“

Harvey leaned forward, gripping the armrests on his wheelchair. “I just need you to help me get up.”

She glanced around the lobby. “I don’t think I can help—“

“Oh, you under-estimate yourself. We can do this.” Harvey settled back in his wheelchair. “I practice every night.”

His wife sighed. ‘I think we should wait for a little help. I can’t do this alone.”wheelchair2

She knew that he hadn’t walked in over a year, not since he had fallen.

“All right. We can wait, I guess.”

Dreams, more vivid than the orange sunset, captivated Harvey’s days. Many of his nights included walks to friends’ houses, to the basement, and to the park.

She patted his arm and gave him a hug. “How are you feeling today?”

“Good. Did I tell you that Jerry visited me last night? I don’t know why he came but we had a good talk.”

Harvey’s wife smiled. Their oldest son lived 2000 miles away and only came on special occasions. She was pretty sure he hadn’t slipped in during the night for a visit.

“And did you enjoy talking with him?”

“Of course. He’s planning to move here soon so he can live with me.”

“That’s great. I’ll bet that made you feel good. He loves you a lot, doesn’t he?”

Harvey nodded. “I guess so.”

Every day, Harvey’s wife came to kiss his forehead and hear his dreams. She loved him a lot, too.

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