Name: Molly Walker
Age: 17
School: Loreto Abbey Secondary School, Dalkey, Co Dublin
Bookshelf Memories
I never knew a place that could warm my heart so much, could also break it.
A home, a nursing home.
The people, their stories, their smiles.
A farmer, a teacher, a nurse, a dressmaker.
All in a room.
A cosy red room with different crimson armchairs,
Some tall, some small.
CDs playing in the background that half of them can't hear.
They all enjoy the Friday bingo.
I've learned the lingo now; legs eleven, two little ducks
Exercise classes on Wednesdays, flower arranging on Mondays,
They all adore the dog visits on Tuesdays,
Quiet snooze for the rest of the day...
Refreshments always on the go
Tea and biscuits, lots of tea and biscuits,
A never-ending supply,
Tea with sugar, tea with milk, black tea.
I know how they all like it now.
One lady jokes and asks for whiskey to help soothe her sore throat.
I smile at her and shake my head.
She replies "I suppose tea will have to do."
Some get lots of visitors, some get none at all.
They love to hold your hand and squeeze it.
They love to chat and tell their stories,
They love to hear yours.
I sat with a lovely lady and she told me the same story five times in a row,
She had forgotten she had just told me.
But that's okay, I liked her story.
When I first arrived I was told that for a lot of people in the home,
Their memories are like books on a bookshelf
that stands up great and tall.
Each book a memory,
the most recent at the top.
When Alzheimer's creeps in the bookshelf waivers and the top books begin to fall.
I noticed this one day.
A kind and caring lady didn't remember last year when her lovely husband passed,
She remembered their wedding though,
Her early memories still last.
Another thinks she's at Pearse Station waiting for the train.
A train that'll never come.
Her brother's on his way, he's going to go with her,
Or at least that's what she tells me.
Another man sits next to his daughter, whom he does not know.
They begin to chat, a conversation begins to flow.
"You remind me of my daughter, she's really kind and smiley,
I haven't seen her for a while, I hope she drops by."
The women wears a broken smile, tears fill up her eyes
"I'm sure she'll call in soon."
The place is full of wheelchairs, zimmer frames and walking sticks.
For those who find it hard to stand.
Their bones are sore, their energy low.
Some smile and laugh and take it in their stride,
Some find it harder to see the brighter side.
Tea and biscuits,
Wheelchairs,
Soup,
Bingo,
Daily newspaper,
Memories,
Stories,
A farmer, a teacher, a nurse, a dressmaker,
Their stories.
