A Swing in the Park

4. Mrs. Finkelstein

"What lovely flowers!" She said. "Are they for me?"

"Yes, Mrs. Finkelstein," I smiled, "I picked them in the garden. I picked them myself. Aren't they pretty?"

"Very pretty!" She said. "Put them here on the table, honey. The nurse will come by and put them in a vase."

"I'm Katie," I said. "My mom works here."

"Does she?" She said. "There are so many nurses here. I can't remember their names."

"She's not a nurse," I said. "Her name is Marcy Desoto. She cleans the rooms and changes the sheets."

"Desoto?" She said. "No, the name does not ring a bell. Not much does these days."

"Do you like walking in the garden?" I said.

"Oh yes!" she beamed. "It's where I feel whole again like a little girl. How old are you, child?"

"I'm 8," I said.

"Shouldn't you be in school?" She said.

"There's no school," I laughed. "It's summer."

"Well, I'll be," she said. "So it is. The seasons turn so slowly that I don't notice them changing. I thought it was spring."

"How is your hip?" I asked.

"Broken, "she said. "Broken as clean as a branch snapping in two. I won't go waltzing with Mr. Sullivan. He lives down the hall from me in 3b. His daughter visits him on Mondays and Fridays."

"Does anyone visit you?" I said.

"I think they do," she said, "but I don't know their faces. They're all like the same person coming every day."

"I'm sure they're sad that you don't remember them," I said. "Are you a good dancer?"

"Mr. Sullivan says so," she smiled. "When I was a girl I danced ballet. I had on a white dress that was wide at the bottom and reached below my knees. And shoes, white with laces strapped around my ankles. I have pictures of me somewhere. Would you like to see?"

"Sure, Mrs. Finkelstein," I said.

She looked around the room and sighed. Her large brown eyes turned sad. "I don't remember where they are," she said. "I think someone took them."

"Why would someone take them?" I said.

"I think to be mean," she said, "and to confuse me. I confuse easily. I don't know what day it is."

"It's Thursday," I said.

"And tomorrow?" She said.

"Friday," I said. "And after that Saturday."

"I can't remember all that," she said. "Why don't you write it down for me? She pointed to a small dry erase board that hung by her bed.

"Have you seen the butterflies?" She asked. "They are periwinkle and they dance through the air like ballerinas. They're so small you can't see their feet but they have shoes on them. They're dancing a ballet. I used to know the name of it. It was something by Wagner. I may have danced it myself when I was a girl."

"I know a place where the butterflies dance and the blue sky is stretched wide as far as the eyes can see," I said.

"You do?" She said. "Perhaps you can take me there. I'd love an outing."

"There's more," I said. "There are fairies in white dresses and they all come out and put on a great ballet. All the creatures from the ant to the bear attend. We can go see it if you like."