Miss Holloway sleeps
In the day, when I work and no friends or family come by (and they seldom come by)
And her eyes tear and droop reading the weary sameness of the words in her books,
she toddles to her bed and she sleeps.
When I call to her, “Miss Holloway, I’m cooking a dinner… are you hungry?”, she rises and sets the TV trays with cloth napery and silver, and we watch Tom Brokaw and then Jim Lehrer, and sip ‘just a taste’ of White Zinfandel. She says, “I know you like Tom Brokaw”, and she compliments me on my culinary skills. And when Jim Lehrer has said goodnight, and the dishes have been washed and set in the rack to dry, and I have turned my attention to other things, she goes back to her room and she sleeps.
Miss Holloway sleeps
While I am out doing laundry, or visiting a friend, or shopping for ‘something different’ for tomorrow’s dinner.
She may rise to watch The Young and the Restless, and maybe relax with just a sip of gin with an olive, then she’ll want to lie down to rest with her yoyo quilt pulled up over her head.
When I call, “Miss Holloway… I found some very nice strawberries”, she may answer. And she may not. Miss Holloway likes red, ripe strawberries in season, and often says, “I should make a batch of biscuits… perhaps tomorrow.” Tonight, I’ll serve strawberry shortcake… with store-bought sponge cakes… for dessert.
Miss Holloway sleeps in her pajamas at night… under her yoyo quilt, and never between sheets. Sometimes she screams out in her sleep. She told me once that she likes me most for my restraint; “You don’t lunge or fondle as my uncle did.” When she was a child. She will be eighty three next birthday. When she screams in the night, I wonder if Uncle is with her again.
“That’s all we ever hear about anymore… don’t you think people today make too much of such things?” Tom Brokaw is talking about allegations against Michael Jackson. “Would you like some tea now, Miss Holloway?” “Yes, thank you… and would you mind bringing me an Exedrin…. I’ve had a little headache.” She awakens with a little headache most days. Sometimes, it lasts the whole day.
Miss Holloway sleeps
When I’m outside shoveling snow… or mowing the lawn… or at my keyboard. If I say, “Miss Holloway, I’m going to visit (anyone)… would you like to come along?” she often says yes I like them very much. And just as often, she will say, “Not just now, but tell them I’m thinking of them.” She will sleep while I’m gone.
On Friday night, I’ll take her out for fish-fry. She owns a good car, and drives it to the post office or library occasionally… when the roads are good… during the day. Friday nights, she prefers that I drive. “Oh, this is where the coleslaw has pineapple… I like that. The other place does have better desserts, however.” “Oh, this is where they have such nice desserts. The other place serves much better coleslaw, don’t you think?”
Miss Holloway sleeps when there is nothing else she would rather be doing. Or, sometimes, to rest up for something she would like to do. I wonder if she dreams of the only boy she ever came close to marrying… the boy who went ‘over there’ a lifetime ago and who wrote often, until he wrote no more.
It is very late now, and I am very tired. Miss Holloway has arisen for her two a.m. toilette, and is now abed for the remainder of the night. It is time for me to go to my own bed, and rest a while, as Miss Holloway sleeps.
