Nonny

I'm going to visit with my neighbor Nonny today. Nonny is ninety three years old. She lives across the street and is one of only three owner/residents on our street. Everybody else around here rents and they come and go, but not Nonny. The other two owner/residents are me and my next door neighbors, the Clampetts, or is it the Honey Boo Boo family? Anyway, you get the idea. I am not looking forward to going to see Nonny today because Nonny isn't across the street where she should be. Nonny is in a hospice. I have been to hospices before. I used to service pharmacy equipment in them. One thing that you could always rely on was that the machines would invariably break down late at night, and late at night is the time of day that hospices remove those who have reached the end of their life. Almost every time I had to go and repair a machine late at night, they were wheeling another poor soul out the door. It is disturbing to me, but I'll still go and visit Nonny. She has always been very sweet to me and Mark, and besides, her nephew told me that they may have put her in hospice too soon. He says that they might send her to a nursing home, or if she can afford it, home with a nurse. So I hope for the best and in the meantime I'll simply think of the good times. Like twenty one years ago when I moved into this house and across the street I saw a seventy two year old woman gardening in her bathing suit. Which isn't nearly as bad as the old guy down the street who gardens in his birthday suit.