Prose, Poetry and Recollections
by
Ginny Brinkley
Ginny Brinkley was born in Washington, D.C., and spent her early years in Arlington, VA, where she graduated from Washington-Lee High School in 1962. In 1966, she earned a BS degree from Mary Washington College, which was, at that time, the women’s division of the University of Virginia. In 1981, she received a Master of Business Administration degree from the University of North Florida...(more)
"Can we go get ice cream, Grandma?"
"Of course we can, Sweet Girl. Where would you like to go?" I ask, acting like I have all the time in the world to spend with her, because I have now, finally, come to the painful realization that I don't.
...[Continued]
I arrived on a Sunday evening, and, not wanting to cause any disruption in their lives, decided to let myself into Walter and Evelyn’s apartment. I had come to stay with Evelyn so Walter could get away for a few days, going to visit a friend. I found them both sitting at the dining room table, so engrossed in a project that neither heard me enter. I observed quietly before announcing my presence. “Now the big white ones,” Walter was saying. Evelyn picked up a medicine bottle and handed it to him. He twisted off the top and handed the bottle back to her...[Continued]
I lovingly lift and examine each picture and then carefully place it on the appropriate stack. Some are so old they are already frayed around the edges and risk crumbling simply from my touch. My sorting job is progressing very slowly, perhaps because I stop to imagine the story behind each photo. Here is one of my grandmother as a little girl. I study it and wonder what she was like then. Was she happy? How did she spend her time?...[Continued]
The drive from our lakehouse to the vet’s office in Melrose usually takes about 15 minutes. That morning it seemed to take forever. For Koko’s sake, I felt like we couldn’t get there soon enough, but the less rational part of me was wishing we would turn around and go back home, putting off this difficult task till another day. My sweet pup stood up the whole way, his labored breathing a grim reminder of our bitter mission. I didn’t see any point in making him lie down–he had no reason to conserve his energy. The only physical requirement left for him would be to walk into the vet’s office one last time. [Continued]
She opened the refrigerator to retrieve the dog’s medicine. “What a chore this is,” she thought, “all these pills to keep track of. But I wouldn’t do it any other way if this will help my sweet pup to be more comfortable. And who knows? It might even extend his life a little.”
“Where the heck is that bottle of pills anyway–I always put it right here in the door.”
She began searching more frantically. [Continued]
It started out like all our other treks around the neighborhood, Matt, Koko and me. We do it several times a week. This particular day the sky was especially blue and I was feeling exhilarated. Matt had chosen to ride in the jogger stroller, although at 4 1/2 years, he often rides his big wheel or sometimes even walks the 2-mile course. Either way, he is not one to allow the time to pass in silence. Always full of questions, unlike the proverbial cat, his curiosity only seems to further his growth and well being. [Continued]
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