As she sat she stared, and as she stared she tried to remember. But
there was nothing. Goldie’s roomwas still and filled with objects and
memories which she couldn’t place, treasures that could be seen but
not found. Faces surrounded her begging to be remembered but to
her they had no meaning. Confused and tired she resorted to staring.
Looking at the trees that swayed in the scene, new every time. It was
a sad end but not one that could be changed.
Round and round the goldfish went with both his mind and body like a dog chasing
their tail. It was never dull in his glass bowl. With the time it took him to venture to
one end on the way back would be new and different. Well to him anyway.
Gold hair flittered across in the breeze. Tendrils floating. Her
skin now delicate with age and a sun kissed glow. She was definitely
once beautiful. A real stunner. Her loose clothes cascaded around
her, holding her attention for a short while. Something was going to
happen today. Yet as hard as she tried she did not know what would
happen. A recurring theme for Goldie. Thoughts swimming through
her brain never seemed to rest and when they did those were the
moments of reprieve from this sad end. The times when her eyes
widened with recognition or knowledge of some sort, which gave
hints to how little she could remember. In an instant it is gone and
her eyes are glassing over with forget and gloom. Wading through
life once again.
The goldfish swam, up and down, not ever growing tired of his glass bowl. The
pebbles shined but not one meant something to him. As the goldfish swam, the
light hitting his scaly skin reflected off him, shimmering around the bowl, always
changing the scene conveying the reason for his large glassy eyes. He flittered
around, gliding through the water with his feathery fins which cascaded around
his body, looking like a loose veil. One thing was true, if not a beautiful creature
then it was nothing else.
The oak door squeaked open with warning, frightening Goldie a
bit. She did not know who was entering, not an ounce of recognition
filled her when hopeful eyes gazed at her, waiting and expecting a
response. She could not remember who this was, just a nameless fish
in the pond. She stared into distantly familiar eyes wishing for some
sort of recognition. “Grandma, how are you feeling?” the young man
asked in a sedated tone that could only be called tiredly hopeful,
giving Goldie the feeling that this man meant something to her.
Worry began to well up from the pit of her stomach, gliding up to
her chest making anxiety bubble over. She whipped her head back