“Convalescent” appeared in Entelechy International, Number 7, 2012.
When he and Mary were young, when the children were growing up, he had such a difficult time understanding what Mary was thinking, her moods coming on as suddenly and unexpectedly as, well, as suddenly and unexpectedly as old age. Now, her face veiled by wrinkles, he could not read it at all. At least two or three times a day, he wondered what she did alone in their house without him, without his meals to plan and his shirts to iron and his ashtray to empty of the day’s pipe dottle. Perhaps she did as he did, sit in a chair all day and stare out the window, incapacitated not by physical infirmity as he was, but by her memories of their life together.