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THE LITTLE RANCH LADY WAS BARELY FIVE FEET TALL
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She was about ninety years old, I would guess. She was just a neat little lady---though there was something about her---I had never heard her say a word.
Usually we saw her there at the nursing home, a couple of times a week when we ate in the dining room with "Mama," my wife's mother.
Her assigned seat was at the end of our table, right across from us. I'd always speak to her but she never answered and I had never heard her say anything, so I didn't press it. There are all kinds of situations in those homes. She didn't really pay us any attention either.
She was pretty short, as older folks get, and I think she was short to start with. She seldom ate much---just kind of picked at her food in a bored, uninterested way. She had a way of kind of tilting her head over her plate, as if to see better, or maybe her neck was stiff.
She never seemed to have any family or friends around to eat with her, but there was an attendant always hovering nearby and seeing after several folks. You had to be careful not to offer too much help to people in those homes, because they all had different dietary and swallowing problems.
I had a kind of secret admiration for this little lady because we'd been told she was from an old-time ranching family down in southeasternNew Mexico
And you know, in my mind I could visualize my little ranch lady out there in the open spaces, maybe on her horse, maybe helping at the chuck wagon and tossing some pancakes during branding-time...or maybe just riding around, checking the grass, after that last rain. She may have even climbed a windmill or two in her day!
I'll bet she looked "cool" in her "size small" jeans, western shirt, and red bandana...not to mention her cowboy boots and ten gallon hat!
Nursing homes are tough places for people to wind up their lives.
That night we were eating over there seemed like any other time---our little ranch lady was eating along more or less, with her head cocked sideways, but...for some strange reason she was really "eye-balling" ME. And for some reason her eyes were VERY BRIGHT and she didn't seem to miss a motion that I made. She was certainly taking me in.
That day, I was off work and was wearing some old faded blue levis and faded denim western shirt, my western belt buckle, a big Indian turquoise bolo, and my boots.
THE LITTLE RANCH LADY WAS BARELY FIVE FEET TALL
***********************************************************************
She was about ninety years old, I would guess. She was just a neat little lady---though there was something about her---I had never heard her say a word.
Usually we saw her there at the nursing home, a couple of times a week when we ate in the dining room with "Mama," my wife's mother.
Her assigned seat was at the end of our table, right across from us. I'd always speak to her but she never answered and I had never heard her say anything, so I didn't press it. There are all kinds of situations in those homes. She didn't really pay us any attention either.
She was pretty short, as older folks get, and I think she was short to start with. She seldom ate much---just kind of picked at her food in a bored, uninterested way. She had a way of kind of tilting her head over her plate, as if to see better, or maybe her neck was stiff.
She never seemed to have any family or friends around to eat with her, but there was an attendant always hovering nearby and seeing after several folks. You had to be careful not to offer too much help to people in those homes, because they all had different dietary and swallowing problems.
I had a kind of secret admiration for this little lady because we'd been told she was from an old-time ranching family down in southeastern
And you know, in my mind I could visualize my little ranch lady out there in the open spaces, maybe on her horse, maybe helping at the chuck wagon and tossing some pancakes during branding-time...or maybe just riding around, checking the grass, after that last rain. She may have even climbed a windmill or two in her day!
I'll bet she looked "cool" in her "size small" jeans, western shirt, and red bandana...not to mention her cowboy boots and ten gallon hat!
Nursing homes are tough places for people to wind up their lives.
That night we were eating over there seemed like any other time---our little ranch lady was eating along more or less, with her head cocked sideways, but...for some strange reason she was really "eye-balling" ME. And for some reason her eyes were VERY BRIGHT and she didn't seem to miss a motion that I made. She was certainly taking me in.
That day, I was off work and was wearing some old faded blue levis and faded denim western shirt, my western belt buckle, a big Indian turquoise bolo, and my boots.
As I was sitting there eating, I heard the little ranch lady say to my wife, the only words I had ever heard her say: "WHERE DID YOU GET THE COWBOY?"
Coming from a "ranch gal," I felt honored!
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BY MIL
3/02/13
Sent from my iPad
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