Footprints in the Snow

It's cold tonight, and quiet. Nothing but the ticking of the clock on the wall. The old familiar melody of time. Monotonous in it's arrangement, yet a tune I've come to know well. It snowed about two inches today. On top of the snow we had earlier this week, it will be quite the feat if Jennie gets here tomorrow. It's been a long winter...or has it? I suppose here's where I intereject that for the last two years I've had, what my family has insisted, is the onset of Alzheimers. If it weren't for my journaling I'd be reliant on others telling me what's going on. And even still, I find myself starting a new page, in the middle of a thought, when it's as if the ink has left my pen. It takes me a while to remember to even return to the previous page to collect my story. But right now, I'm having a moment of clarity. I feel somewhat my old self tonight. It's a shame I have no one to share it with but this old dusty journal.

I'm still living in the lake house. It was a fight to stay, but my son and I found a compromise with Jennie, my nurse. Jennie comes daily to see if I've kicked the bucket. I'm a constant dissappointment to her, which I don't mind as she's a fiesty old bat. I tell her she's not but a few years behind me, and one day we'll both be staring at each other neither of us knowing who's who. But all company becomes dull when living is the only thing on the agenda. I do remember John, my son came to see me last night. Well, I must admit it could have been a month ago now. I seem to remember there were still leaves on the trees when he was here...Must have been Thanksgiving. I wonder how close Christmas must be then? To be honest, I'm afraid to look at the calendar for fear that another year has begun without me. Another year...another winter. I'm not looking forward to another winter.

I suppose I was talking about John, my son. His last visit was just that. A visitation. Not unlike that which accompanies a funeral. I remember many sorrowful looks, lingering goodbyes, frustration from both of us. Somber company for an old man's last memories. I can't blame him though, as I know I offended him in some way. I can't say how, but I remember feeling terrible after he left. I assume I said something foolish or I brought up something from the past. I didn't make a journal entry of it so it must have been a very bad day. One of the worst parts of losing my memory is when you don't know where you came from you don't know where to go. I'd like to call John up and apologize, but I don't know what to apologies for. Some days I'll find the phone in my hand and it's ringing on the other end. I panic not knowing who I dialed and everytime I hangup and hope no one calls back. I think now I must have been calling on John...yet I can't recount anyone returning the call.

I remember, years ago, picking John up from summer camp. I was so excited to have him home again, though I encouraged his independence I missed him at home that year. That was a long summer with Helen and I. John being at camp was our opportunity to set some things straight between us. Helen had always been somewhat of a night owl. She always had some card group or late night book club she attended with her circle of lady friends. I rarely expected her in bed after I got home from work. I don't remember the details of what happend and when, but I was stopping by Elaine Walter's home, where she was suppose to be one night. It didn't take much detective work to find out she had been running around with an old boyfriend of hers. Oliver Asheman... We trudged on for decades after that summer. I can't recall how many years ago she packed up and finally left, but if I'm honest the second she moved out the forgetfulness moved in. I was always so scared of being alone that I never really held the adultery against her. In fact, I was so desperate to keep Helen that my forgiveness became a chokehold of guilt that enventually crushed us both. Perhaps that's what I should apologize to Johnathan about... I can do nothing but sigh and stare when I think of our marraige. Holding on to all those years and they didn't amount to a single fond memory now. It's times like this I sometimes welcome the forgetfulness.

I'll find myself most days on the porch watching the lake. Even today, I sat outside watching the new fallen snow turn the lake into a feild of white. There's a rabbit I watch that must have a burrow under the berry bush to the north of the shoreline because it's left tracks all over the back yard. I must have thrown bits of popcorn out to him at some point, but he doesn't seem to care for it as it was still strewn about today...I'm remembering as I write this of something that happend as I was on the porch the afternoon. I was watching the lake as the sun was setting. I don't know why, but for some reason the rabbit ventured out onto the frozen lake. Then a shadow moved in. There was no noise no warning. In a breath of air a barn owl lifted the rabbit off. I must have sat outside for hours afterwards. I was so frozen coming in to journal. Those footprints...I was pondering on those footprints. I saw the rabbit tracks out to the open of the lake and then nothing. I saw the signs that there was a past. But couldn't figure out where the venturer disappeared. Somehow I thought if I could remember what happened he'd be sure to appear. I couldn't recall til now. A barn owl lifted the rabbit off. No amount of remembering will bring him back. His journey ends in a frozen lake, his footprints vanishing into the unknown...Such is life, I suppose.

It's cold tonight, and quiet. Nothing but the ticking of the clock on the wall...and in the distance I can hear a barn owl calling...I'm not sure I'm wanting to disappoint Jennie tomorrow.