That noise, that incessant noise. Makes him want to scream! clip-clop clip clop. He hears it day and night, why can’t they wear regular shoes like nurses did in the day, the quiet ones that allowed them to sneak up on you in the middle of the night, or always be standing behind you when you turn around. Now they wear those damn flip-flops and it makes him want to scream, if only he could.
He sits in his room and thinks, thinks all day. It is all he has left. The rest of his body has quit on him mostly, can barely scrape up the energy to get out of bed to get to that ratchety old wheel chair that they gave him. ‘That thing is as old as me’ he swears.
He watches them as they come and go, young and old, short and tall, all of them talking as if they knew it all, that they had all the answers. Taking for granted that they can run off at the mouth at will, while he sits silent, just staring. His mind is still working, he still thinks and functions internally, just somewhere along the line his body stopped listening to his brain. But he never stops thinking, his memories never stop flooding through his mind, good memories, bad memories, doesn’t matter. They are there, so much that he could share, but he can’t get them out. They seem to be stuck in there forever.
Is wisdom wasted on the old? Is it because youth is wasted on the young? Young people don’t want to listen to an old man anyway, maybe it is better this way, he’ll just keep it all in his head until it is time to meet his maker.
For some reason these young flip-flop wearing people think that their problems are unique to their generation, that they are different. Sure, everything around them is different, they have so much information flooding them on a daily basis, but that is not the same as wisdom. Knowledge is an accumulation of information that is learned, but having knowledge does not make you a wise person. Wisdom comes from learning how to apply that knowledge to everyday life, learning how to use that knowledge.
That is the problem with people these day he thinks, so much knowledge and so few people willing to learn how to use it, to listen to the previous generation of folks that have been through it all and have gained wisdom. He also hears some of the other people that live here say that even if someone asked, that they would not share what they know. “Let them figure it out themselves since they are so smart.” That is not how it is supposed to work he wants to shout, that will just make things worse. . . but he sits quietly, because that is all he can do any more.
‘Oh well, what can one person change anyway?’ he thinks as he stares at the tray of food that had been placed in front of him. ‘At least they give us a piece of cake on the weekend.’