Still
by
Jenn Ashton
The thing I love about looking at this picture of Henry, is how still and serene he is, with his flash of smiling eyes and his mouth open just enough to make his dimples pocket even deeper.
Although the Polaroid is small, it is made big in my hands because he is still but in reality, sometimes to look at him hurts my eyes and it makes a small earthquake in my brain. In fact, sometimes I look away when we're talking, and I know how painful it is for me, so I can imagine how painful it is for Henry, to see me do it.
He wasn't always like this, decades ago when we first met, he had just the odd movement he couldn't control. His toes curling in, his leg twisting for no reason, oh, and he would get writer's cramp, really badly so he couldn't open his hand after writing a few words with a pencil.
Sometimes if he was stressed or tired, or maybe too hot, his neck would get a bit jumpy and his head looked like it was shaking. These days it happens almost all the time except when he is laying down, and he lays down a lot, so we can talk and so he can just have a break. His muscles get sore and tired from firing and fighting against each other all the time. I can't imagine his pain and frustration.
But he's a gentleman, does everything he can manage, and when he's laying down, he's just my old Henry cracking jokes and talking about life. We talk a lot about life, his viewpoint is so unique, he's my hero.
At night we put splints on his legs and wrists so his body doesn't get pulled out of shape overnight, for some people the muscles contracting can pull the joints out of alignment, and we would like to avoid surgery at all costs, so we splint and we yoga. Henry is an amazing Yogi and he is so calm. That's why sometimes it's hard to see him in such rapid movement, it's against his nature.
I show him the picture when he's lying down and he can see it then too, and we both love it for the same reason, the look on his face is happy and restful and in the photo, Henry is still.
Although the Polaroid is small, it is made big in my hands because he is still but in reality, sometimes to look at him hurts my eyes and it makes a small earthquake in my brain. In fact, sometimes I look away when we're talking, and I know how painful it is for me, so I can imagine how painful it is for Henry, to see me do it.
He wasn't always like this, decades ago when we first met, he had just the odd movement he couldn't control. His toes curling in, his leg twisting for no reason, oh, and he would get writer's cramp, really badly so he couldn't open his hand after writing a few words with a pencil.
Sometimes if he was stressed or tired, or maybe too hot, his neck would get a bit jumpy and his head looked like it was shaking. These days it happens almost all the time except when he is laying down, and he lays down a lot, so we can talk and so he can just have a break. His muscles get sore and tired from firing and fighting against each other all the time. I can't imagine his pain and frustration.
But he's a gentleman, does everything he can manage, and when he's laying down, he's just my old Henry cracking jokes and talking about life. We talk a lot about life, his viewpoint is so unique, he's my hero.
At night we put splints on his legs and wrists so his body doesn't get pulled out of shape overnight, for some people the muscles contracting can pull the joints out of alignment, and we would like to avoid surgery at all costs, so we splint and we yoga. Henry is an amazing Yogi and he is so calm. That's why sometimes it's hard to see him in such rapid movement, it's against his nature.
I show him the picture when he's lying down and he can see it then too, and we both love it for the same reason, the look on his face is happy and restful and in the photo, Henry is still.
NUNUM
Blending Flash Fiction & Art
