Deja Vu

The sounds of home.....

Prompt by : Gibberish: FFF - Gone Home

Photo by: Pixabay - Photography

“They say you can’t go home again. It is true. Things change. People change. Everyone you knew is gone, passed on or moved, and new people inhabit the homes, your home. All you have left are memories. It's all a matter of perspective but damn, that Deja Vu wreaks havoc with the brain every time,“ Rusty philosophized, pausing for his sense of direction.

“Ruthy,” he started, “I walked into the long term care facility with a clear mind and clear conscience. A couple of hours later I staggered out, my mind a whirling jumble of what once was and could never be again.”

“What do you mean?” asked Ruthy.

“As you know I visited my brother this afternoon. We started on an unexpected journey. He rambled on for quite a while. Most of it was nothing but sequences of words, stories I had never heard before. I listened carefully, asking a question here, fielding a query there. Prompting him with a piece of information from time to time to help him along with his thoughts.”

“Awe,” replied Ruthy. “That was so nice of you. I know it is tough sometimes.”

Rusty continued to look at the spot on the carpet he had been staring at while he was talking to Ruthy. He could feel the love she gave him as if she was applying it like a lotion to make his body feel better. There were times like this where he was thankful for that love. Rusty continued, “but then he started talking about our lives living on Mill Street.” Rusty paused to catch his breath. “He talked in such detail that it was as if we were both sitting on the steps of that old cement porch, basking in the sunshine and all of our old neighbours were stopping by for a discussion.”

“It was that real?” whispered Ruthy.

“It was that real,” continued Rusty. “I could hear our siblings talking in the background. I could smell the tobacco my dad used. I could smell the cookies my mom used to bake.” He paused to wipe a tear from his eyes. “I was there. He was there. It was like we went home for the afternoon.”

“Perhaps he did,” suggested Ruthy. “I have read that people with Alzheimer's disease often remember vividly things from their past.”

“But I don’t have Alzheimer's disease,” replied Rusty.

He looked over to where Ruthy once sat answering his questions. Rusty blinked and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Are you ok Rusty?” asked the Nurse gently.

Rusty nodded, closing his eyes, willing those memories of Ruthy to return for a little while longer.