The Magic Mirror

by Michael Gemignani

find a meal worth the small detour. One has to make detours at times to find what is truly worthwhile.

  We spent the night in a nearby motel and continued on toward Emily and Hiram=s farm. We knew that this elderly couple had been placed in a nursing home together. No doubt they were being well cared for, but they were not doing what they had loved doing for decades of their long life together. They could not even care for one another, much less could they care for their beloved animals or tend their precious crops. We had learned the name of the home into which they were to be placed before we left them so we could visit them on our return, but first we wanted Robin to see their farm.

  We turned off the highway and drove down the once narrow road. But the road had been widened, and, whereas before it had previously been pitted and uneven from neglect, it now had been leveled and bore signs of heavy traffic. David had to swerve toward the shoulder as a large truck barreled down toward us from the direction of the farm.

  When we reached the road=s end where we expected to see the farmhouse, we found our path blocked by heavy equipment that was standing where we had parked on our first visit. The farmhouse was gone as were the trees that had stood guard over it. There was no sign of the pigpen where Emily had fallen.

  AWhat is going on?@ I wondered aloud.

  ADidn=t you see the sign when we turned on to the road?@ Robin asked.

  AWhat sign?@

  AThe sign that read >Coming Soon. Squire Acres Country Estates. 1 to 5 acres for clean, safe, rural living.=@

  AI noticed it,@ David said, Abut I didn=t think it could refer to Hiram and Emily=s farm.@

  AAnd why not?@ Robin replied. ADon=t you know that country living is the new thing. If the family had tried to sell this land as a farm, they would have gotten only a fraction of what they probably are getting from the developer that=s building this subdivision. People want to get away from the cities and get out there they can find open spaces.@

  Even David with his experience in both business and city living seemed surprised. ABut what do they do with their homes in the city?@ he asked.

  AWhy they keep them,@ Robin answered. ASome of my former colleagues have three homes, a city home, one in the country, and one by the shore. Of course, their work usually prevents them from visiting their away homes more than a few weeks each year, but they assume real estate prices will go up and they=ll be able to sell them for a decent profit later on even if they never live in them.@

  ABut isn=t it expensive to keep up extra houses?@ David asked. A And I would worry about a house I rarely saw. I know from the house I used to live in that is took a lot of time and money to keep everything in good repair.@

  Robin laughed. AOf course it=s expensive, but the people who buy such houses usually have more money than they know what to do with, and they can easily hire someone to make sure the houses are well cared for. Anyway, the money isn=t as important as the prestige of being able to tell people you own all that property. Remember that historically the aristocracy were the ones who owned the most land.

  AI admit that I thought the practice of owning more than one home rather foolish. I concentrated on my work and didn=t want distractions. But there is enough demand that developments like this one make money for the developers and for the folks who sell the land. That=s what it=s all about, making money.@

  I paused for a moment before asking, ARobin, is that what you intend to do with your parents= farm, turn it into a development like this one?@

  Robin thought for a moment before answering. AThat=s a good question. As I remember the farm, it=s not far from the city, so it has a better location for development than this one.

  ABut I=m am not sure what I will want to do. It is still my parents= farm, not mine. They must make the decisions while they are still alive. Of course, I can advise them. They might need more money for their care as they grow older and more frail. And, in any event, I haven=t yet decided if I even want to stay there. I might move elsewhere and start a business of my own. I=ll see when the time comes.@

  AYou don=t have to sell the farm to care for them,@ David said. AYou have lots of money you could use.@

  AI suppose I do,@ Robin said somewhat pensively. AWhen I worked for the bank I never thought I had enough. Maybe I have to get rid of that mindset. Perhaps I=ll even enjoy farming, though I=ve never did much of it before I left home.@

  AWhat did you do before you left home?@ I asked.

  AI read a lot and day-dreamed about the world beyond the farm. Life on the farm seemed boring and predictable. My father and mother did pretty much the same things at the same time very day and in the same way.

  AThey tried to interest me in helping with the farm, but I kept thinking how much more there was to life than feeding the animals and tending the crops. When my father took me to the city to get supplies, I wanted to talk to the people there and explore the buildings, but we never stayed long enough for me to do that.

  Oh, I did chores around the house, mostly reluctantly and complained a lot. I=m sure I hurt my parents deeply by not wanting to share their way of life, or even learn much about it. I kept telling myself that there was more than life than life, and, so, one day I ran away . . . and you know the rest.@

  Yes, I thought to myself, we know the rest. I was not happy with my parents, so I ran away. David was not happy with his family either, so he ran away. Each of us ran from our problems to try to seek a happier life, and now we were each returning to what we left behind, each of us unsure what we would find and whether we would run away again.

  A Visit to a Nursing Home

  The sign at the entrance to the parking lot read ASunnydale Health Care Center.@ The thought of Hiram and Emily having to spend their final years here saddened me, but should it have? Their needs were met. They were fed and clothed and given whatever medications their doctors prescribed to make them as comfortable as possible. They had companions here to talk with and share memories from long, and often eventful, lives. At least I hoped this was the case.

  We parked not far from the main entrance and went inside. The lobby was bright and cheery with a large glassed cage filled with small colorful birds against the back wall. Two ample openings led from the lobby to hallways along which we could see rows of doors. There were two patients sitting listlessly in wheelchairs in the lobby. To our right a young woman sat at a desk on which there was a telephone and a file folder. We approached her.

  AGood morning,@ I greeted her.

  AGood morning,@ she replied. AHow may I help you?@

  AWe=re here to visit Hiram and Emily. I am not sure of their last name, but they are a husband and wife who came here after Emily fell and hurt herself. They would have arrived about five weeks ago.@

  AOh, I know exactly who you mean,@ the young woman said with a smile. AYes, they are a lovely couple.@

  The woman opened her file folder and consulted a listing of patients at the home. ATheir last name is Johnson. Emily is in the Bluebird Wing, Room 114. Hiram is in the Eagle Wing, Room 109.@

  My heart sank. ADo you mean they didn=t get a room together?@

  AWhy no,@ the woman replied, seemingly surprised at my question. AWe only place women with women and men with men.@

  ABut they=ve been married for more than fifty years,@ David chimed in.

  The woman seemed perplexed. AWell, we almost never have a married couple come in at the same time. This is an unusual situation, and it would be just too difficult to change the rules for them alone.@

  AWhy?@ Robin asked, with a hint of annoyance. ARules can always be broken for good reasons. Keeping Hiram and Emily together seems to be a good reason for breaking the rule.@

  APlease don=t get angry with me,@ the woman snapped back. AI=m just a volunteer and I don=t make the rules. If you don=t like the rule, you need to talk to the administrator.

  AAnyway, Hiram and Emily can get together anytime they want. They can visit each other=s rooms and eat
meals together, or even come out here to the lobby to be with one another.@

  Just then the phone on the woman=s desk rang, and she quickly answered it. There was not much point in pursuing our conversation with her, so the three of us exited the lobby through the archway labeled ABluebird Wing.@ The air had an antiseptic smell mixed, it seemed to me, with a hint of urine.

  Some of the patients were sitting in wheelchairs in the hallway. Almost all of these had expressions that seemed drained of emotion as if these sad souls were there but not there. I could not help but wonder what their thoughts were, or if they could still think in a meaningful way. One was babbling to herself with words I could not make out. She reached out to us with a withered hand. I touched it gently as we passed by.

  We continued down the hall until we came to Room 114. Glancing through the open door, we saw two beds. In the bed closest to the door a woman was sleeping on her back, snoring softly. In the bed by the window, we saw a woman whose features reminded us of Emily=s, but she seemed older and more frail than the Emily we had met just weeks earlier.

  We entered the room quietly so as not to wake up the sleeper.

  The woman near the window turned her head to look at us. ADavid and Adam. How nice to see you again. I see you have someone with you. Is this the person you were looking for when you came to the farm?@

  It was Emily, though she now seemed smaller than I remembered her, and her face seemed thinner and more wrinkled. But I was delighted that she remembered David and me. AYes, Emily, it=s Adam and David. And, yes, we did find Robin.@

  Robin extended his hand toward Emily. AEmily, it=s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Robin.@

  AI=m so glad they found you. They were quite worried, you know. But they took time to help me and Hiram, and I will always be grateful to them for that.

  AHave you visited Hiram yet?@

  ANo, we came to find you first,@ I replied. AWould you like us to put you in your wheelchair so we can all visit Hiram together?@

  AThat would be wonderful,@ Emily said with a broad smile.

  I went into the hall and asked an aide if she would help us put Emily into her wheelchair so we could take her with us to visit her husband. When Emily was safely in her wheelchair, I pushed it and the four of us paraded out of the Bluebird Wing through the lobby and into the Eagle Wing. Except for the sign over the entrance arch, the Eagle Wing was almost identical to the Bluebird Wing: the same antiseptic smell, the same row of doorways, patients sitting in wheelchairs in the hall, except these were men rather than women.

  We reached Hiram=s room. His was the bed closest to the door. He was asleep, but we woke him gently so he could visit with us and his wife.

  Hiram seemed slightly dazed as he opened his eyes and stared toward us. His face brightened immediately though we he saw Emily. The expressions on the faces of this dear couple mirrored the love that they held for one another, a love that I was sure had grown ever more profound over their years together.

  I had begun this journey to learn about love, and I knew I was seeing love now, a devotion of two human beings to one another that transcended the hardships they had faced in the past and the pain they must feel now that they cannot share the same room and must be cared for by strangers. I had no doubt that each would gladly have given his or her life for the welfare of the other. Yet, now their joy must be found in occasional face to face encounters that could take place at the mercy of their care-givers. Their love can bring meaning to a place even as sad and this one. And if they someday enter into the mental night that I saw in some of the patients here, that love may still somehow light that darkness.

  ADavid and Adam,@ Hiram said in a voice still weak with sleep, AI am so