Eighty-six and ninety-two fill the room with a history the young can capture only from textbooks.
Minds still alive as ever before memory very much in tact but trapped in their broken exteriors. Fortunately, like many before them, they have adapted to their failing limbs and tired bodies. Reaching up is not an option, so chores are carried out at floor level.
Mostly seeming comfortable with their lot, they are content to spend days on end sat in their assigned chairs; whilst other days insanely frustrated with their inability to do.
Excitement comes in the form of living through close family members, or the latest ailment to strike their weak and flailing body. From the common cold to the more serious ‘C’ that is our modern epidemic. And yet they fight. Fight for lives that seems so ordinary.
Illness strikes eighty six: suddenly alone, ninety-two’s legs fail him and he can worry only from a distance. Funnily enough, a modern gadget in the form of a mobile phone keeps eighty-six handy whilst she defends herself from dis-ease.
In youth, we assume age changes us – it does not. We still feel as we always have. Perhaps more rational than we once were but feeling all the same. Anger, anguish, despair and loss, hurt, loneliness and fear alive as ever before. The waiting game begins.
Luckily the world turns bright; his beloved comes back to him – she has more to give.
On return, the onslaught ensues. Stress and worry become apparent through anger at the inability to control the situation. To remind of a time when control was firmly in the hands of our forgotten generation, and just as the comedy sketches portray, ninety two provides a commentary of what is was like in the war torn days. “You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for us.”