There Are Tulips at Retirement Home Gardens
There Are Tulips at Retirement Home Gardens
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“Have a good day, Mr. Hammer.” I bade him goodbye as I picked up the tray of medicine. It was just another day at the retirement home and in a few minutes, my graveyard shift will be over.
“It’s a beautiful day outside, don’t you think?” He said looking out his window.
“True.” I smiled.
“A good stroll at the garden would make me happy, indeed.”
“Mr. Hammer, you know you can’t get out of bed. You need rest.” I said. He recently had a stroke and just came out of the hospital.
“Just now, please? For my birthday? I’m not getting any younger.”
“I’m sorry Mr. Hammer but I really can’t. The doctor gave us strict order. You can’t go walking around the place.” I said and gave him a sad smile. “I’d really like to but I can’t. Happy birthday, anyways.”
I walked back to the nurse’s station when a wheelchair caught my eye. I placed the tray I was holding on a counter and pushed the chair back to Mr. Hammer’s room. “Only because it’s your birthday.” I said as I walked in.
His face lit up and his lips formed a smile. He immediately sat up as I placed the wheel chair beside his bed. After a few struggles, we successfully placed him on the chair. While I pushed the wheelchair to the garden, he said, “Thank you, dear.”
“It’s my birthday gift to you.”
Soon, I was giving him a tour around the garden while we talked. He told me about his small home town and how he operated a small pie shop that was popular all over his town where he himself cooked the pies. He also told me about his wife who he met while he was having a stroll at the park. He almost got hit by the bicycle she was riding. They were married for fifty-three years until she passed away without giving birth to a child.
“That’s the end of our tour today, Mr. Hammer I hope you enjoyed.” I said trying to sound like a tour guide.
“You bet I did. Let me just pick a tulip.” He said. His wheelchair was parked beside a line of tulips the gardener planted.
“Here, let me help you.” I said.
“Please don’t. I’d like to do it myself.” He said leaning closer. He picked a pink tulip and sniffed it. “No smell.” He commented.
I giggled. “Alright, Mr. Hammer. Let’s go in now.”
“Okay. Whatever you say, dear.”
“You know, I enjoyed our stroll as well.” I said.
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Eighteen hours after the garden stroll, I went back during midnight for yet another graveyard shift. I was putting my bag at the counter of the nurse’s station when the nurse whose shift was before me called my name from Mr. Hammer’s room.
“Coming! Why the hell are you shouting?” I asked. When I arrived there, she was standing beside Mr. Hammer’s bed with a shocked expression.
“He won’t wake up for his medicine!” She whimpered.
My vision started to blur and I took a step towards him. “Call the doctor!” My voice was trembling. “Mr. Hammer?” I called gently.
I reached out for his hand but as soon as I touched it, I pulled back. It was cold and it made chills run down my spine. Then, at his bedside table, I saw the tulip he picked this morning with a piece of paper rolled on the stem. I picked it up.
I picked this flower myself for you as a thank you for the best birthday that might as well be my last. I will treasure this day forever. Thank you for making me happy.
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