At work in contact with charming elderly lady in pretty, patterned sweater same age as my beloved mother would be if still with us.
Couldnt resist asking her age even though I knew it. Wanted her to say it. ” I’m 83. ” Such a warm smile and twinkly eyes. Had to help her down from a precarious place. A ledge of sorts. Put both my hands out to hers to steady her. She took them gratefully held on hard and we manoeuvred her down. And..oh! The joy of feeling her dry, papery skin on my hands. Seeing the blue veins standing out on the white skin of the backs of her hands. The smattering of liver spots. How long since I touched the skin of my beloveds. My grandmother and mother and how I miss them. Had to sit down afterwards while my eyes swam with tears and longing. How quickly it was over, even though they both lived to good age. I am left with nothing but regrets and wondering if I made the most of them, whether I loved them enough. Pangs of sadness and regret.
The River Files 