Ninety or Ninety-Three

I have not written in quite some time. Sixty-seven to seventy years, to be exact. I can't be more exact than that. I have forgotten how old I am.

I had been enjoying my life with Marlena. Our first child was born; we named him Simon. We left the Ringling Brothers Circus after our third child. We had two more children after that. With my many years of experience with animals, my Cornell degree, and Rosie, I became the veterinarian for the Brookfield Zoo in Chicago.

Marlena died after 61 years of marriage. Cancer. "Age is a terrible thief."

I never told Marlena what Rosie did to August.

Those years went by too fast.

There is a circus tent outside the window of the nursing home. Joseph McGuinty, an ex-lawyer and new resident to the home, told me he used to work for the circus. He said he carried water for the elephants. THAT OLD COOT IS A LIAR!!!!

I watched the big top being set up as Rosemary, my nurse, informed me I'd be going to the circus tomorrow. "I look for an elephant with equal parts dread and disappointment."

The doctors have put me on a new pill for depression due to my out lash at McGuinty.

My children control me now. They have their own families and come to visit me. But they don't talk to me like I want them to. They don't tell me their problems. They just talk about the weather and the vacations they've been on. Nothing important. I don't even recognize them anymore. I know they are my people and I pretend to know them, but I don't. The only one I recognize is Isabelle. My granddaughter looks like Marlena.