I want to tell you a story, am anniversary story from over 30 years ago
It is in part fiction, as it is but a story, yet it is also fact, as this is a reality that surrounds us all
That reality is alcoholism. Not the binge drinker that spews up on the pavement, not the abusive partner that cannot hold his or her booze, but a silent alcoholism which we seldom recognize and seldom talk about.
It is the alcoholism suffered by thousands on lonely elderly men ad women who dreams are fading as fast as the money in their bank accounts, and who, locked in the past and unable to deal with reality, stumble through life as best they can. They do not understand modern day life as we know it, the values that surround them might as well be written in an alien language, and the pursuit of real happiness has become an impossible dream.
So it is that I present you with My Friend Jeannie. A story of an alcoholic lady called Elsie, who sadly and irrevocably, was on the slide. Was this her real name, no, I never knew her real name, but did she, oh yes, and I often wonder what happened to her to this day.
…..She paid for her shopping, stepped outside, and slowly carefully the door behind her. Their daily little play was finished, but he watched her as she slowly danced across, and then down the road. He didn’t know his dance steps— he had never been trained that way— but looking at her clothes and her demeanor he wondered, not for the first time, what her history might be, and what sights she had seen over the years. Her clothes radiated quality, and clearly they had tailor-made for her, but now they hung loose around her shoulders and body. The once fine colors and intricate lacework stitching had clearly faded and, a little like her overall character, they had begun to unravel with time. It was sad, really sad. and though Elsie was still tall and graceful she looked like some slightly confused and half forgotten imperial queen or empress who, for some unexplained reason, had somehow slipped out of place and time. Misty eyed and with a continually red damp tip to her nose, she simply didn’t belong in the modern world, yet she still held her head high, as almost in remembrance of her glory years that now lay so many years behind….
This post is also part of the WordPress weekly challenge, but it is so much more than that. Wherever you live such individuals will be living. We need to help them, if help can be accepted, and understand the problem, for if we don’t do so how many other Elsie’s will stumble by our side
Thank you for reading this post, and I hope you like the story. Enjoy