Writing 6.30.21 writing prompt “Movement….”
The cool breeze sweeps past Paul’s skin, but does nothing to dull the intensity of the Carolina heat. Swaying on the porch swing of the convalescent home he rubs his knee, more out of habit then from need, and wishes the humidity would go away so his bones wouldn’t ache and he could easily move again. Across from Paul was a daycare facility, he always found it odd that someone would build a daycare and elderly facility across from each other, tormenting the youth with what’s to come and teasing the old of days gone by. On this day, Paul did not feel the pang of jealousy as he watched the little ones running and jumping. Today reminiscing of more mobile times, he thought of climbing trees which lead to scrapped knees and hopping on one foot hoping the pain would flee. He thought of the taste of his mother’s cooking when he returned from the war, how it stuck to his bones and made him jump for joy. For all he knew it could have been the blend of spices and okra connecting with the spirits of the ancestors in his belly, that made him wiggle in his seat. Another gust of wind travels by and Paul lays back to get maximum swing power; and perhaps one of his favorite memories floats across his mind. Swinging in the wind he remembers the sound of the bass filling the space of the night club. He’s brought back to the half lit space, filled with passion, lovers, and the need to move. From the tap of the Tamborine playing in the background causing his toes to tap, to the smoky richness of the vocalist that caused his long time partner and wife to roll her shoulder and sway to the melody. Who can resist the enchantment of sound when it connects to the soul. Grounded to the here and now by the sound of approaching steps, he sees his aid approaching. “Can I help you with anything Mr. Paul?” . Paul stills the swing and extends his hand for some assistance removing himself from his perch. “Only some Bengay, Alex. My knee ain’ what it used to be”.
