hermanajuli

“Help me I am lost”

She asked.

She was a very old lady maybe in her 80’s, with all the wrinkles on her face saying how stressed she was from circling around.

“Am looking for my husband”

She uttered.

I asked her the room number and I walked with her.

I dropped her in front of the Intensive Care Unit.

She smiled and thank me.

As she walks inside I suddenly realized how little memories don’t seem to matter but when you grow old they seem to compound over time.

I wonder how many times have they held hands together.

How many meals have they shared?

How many times have they tried to endure what life has served them?

There are tiny little memories that if we don’t make now sooner or later we will fade.

How many will we be able to carry?

How much have we made for the people we left behind?