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Creaks and Sqeaks

by Lois Wagner  

          Another day is done. I walk through my house, pulling down shades and closing doors. The floor squeaks beneath my feet, reminding me of how many times I have walked this path, closing the house for the evening. Now it is on to bed. I climb the stairs, anticipating which one will squeak this evening. My bones creak. They are telling me it has been another tiring day. Perhaps, once again, I have done just a little more than I am supposed to.

          I am careful as I walk down the hallway to my bedroom. I know there are many squeaks in this hall, and my little grandson is sleeping. He seems to hear every little creak and squeak as you come down the hall. I gingerly navigate the hall and miss those squeaky boards but, alas, once again I hit one or two. He stirs but, luckily, does not wake.

          As I open my closet door to get my nightgown, the door squeaks. I pause to think about how often I have opened and closed this door, all the different outfits bought and then given away. All the pounds that have come, gone, and come back once again.

          I wash my face until it is squeaky clean and brush my teeth. I am ready to put my cares aside for the day. I sit on the edge of the bed and pause to remember all the many gifts given me today: good friends, neighbors, and family; a lovely home; a beautiful country; and my faith in God and humanity.

          I turn out the light and pull my creaky body into bed. I lay there and think of how truly blessed I am. I roll over and close my eyes. My bed squeaks one last time reminding me how much I love the sounds of my home.

By Lois Wagner

Lois Wagner was born and raised on the south side of Chicago and now resides in the western suburbs just outside Chicago. Lois has come to find senior citizens to be of special interest to her, even more so since celebrating her sixty-fifth birthday.

After many years of caring for her Mom and helping her husband care for his aging parents, she has come to have a new perspective on the act of aging. You might say she finally sees the beauty in growing old.

Lois volunteers at her local Senior Center and finds great happiness in engaging her clients at the Center in the lively art of conversation; and if you don’t find her there, she will probably be taking care of her grandchildren or have her nose buried deep in a book.