He ran off into the night, without even leaving any reason why. He ran off into the rain, leaving me and Steak, in what I thought was forever. I kept looking for days, giving up was not an option. I’m not going home without him—I’m not going home without Ben. One morning, I thought I’m gonna explode with joy when my friend called and told me he found him in a nursing home, asking everybody why and how he came there every single morning. One of the doctors recognized him as one-day Ben, the man who can only retain new information for a day.
* Fred Bayer, 365 Days of Ben
I’ve been coming to this nursing home for at least a month now, introducing myself to Benjamin Reid every single time. Today was no exception; I came in like how I came in before, with a heavy heart and a longing for my grandfather.
“Hi, I’m Fred,” I told him, extending a hand. He took it graciously.
“The nurse said I’m supposed to meet you today,” Ben smiled.
“Yeah, you were looking for a Richmond Jones. I found him,” I say, handing him a letter as evidence, “it’s from his wife, and she wants you to read it.”
“Richie has a wife? Good for him,” Ben laughs and rips the envelope open.
I sit there with a tear hanging from the side of my eye, now in danger of falling. I turn away so he won’t notice. God, this is torture. It’s killing me inside.
“I want to see him,” Ben says, returning the letter in its envelope, “he’s alive, I want to see him.”
BINABASA MO ANG
A Day in 1953
Short StoryEveryday with Ben is different yet very familiar at the same time. On some days, I'd remind Ben that we're related. On some days, we play cards. On some days, we talk about dogs. Everyday, he tells me I look like Maura Fischer--his first and last tr...
