Looking up at the twenty meter tall wooden design gate with winglike structures at the entry to the retirement center. Days were long and sunny that autumn which gave the false impression that everything was ok for Joe the son of Veronica and John.
Veronica and John were his parents living in a three story house inside a retirement condominium In Waikanae a small town in New Zealand.
Joe stood outside the house not one hundred meters from the main gate. Watching the impact of the wind on the great wooden wing mural over the entrance.
"You know one day the wind is going to blow that straight into your house Mom."
She didn't comment. Joe only came around every few years, he lived far away, so every comment he made on anything not up to his personal standards, made his words come out sounding false as he spoke them.
He walked into the round tower like structure of the house.
"Mom I haven't even seen the third level of the house, can I go up and check it out?"
"Umm your Dad is actually still sleeping up there, he'll be up soon, you can say hello."
"I'll be quiet I promise."
About to climb the stairs he looked back down at his mother's face, from beside her appeared John.
"Dads already up" He said and came rushing down the stairs to see his father.
The three of them walked out into the sunshine together.
Joe hugged his father "How are you doing?" he asked
"I don't have long, Joe but I'm ok." he whispered sadly
"John you should probably lie back down, get some rest." Veronica said concerned.
"I'll get some rest when I'm dead" John disregarded stoically
Joe took John to the local vehicle show. Where people were buying and selling and exhibiting the thing that John liked most, vehicles. After querying a few classic car owners John hopped on a motorcycle and took off. He came back a few minutes later looking quite happy in himself.
The two of them took a ride in a new sports car with a very wide strange front.
John interviewed them all. "what make and model is this?"
"Where was this made?"
Joe could only guess when he was young cars were much simpler.
They got back in the car and made their way back to the retirement condo.
"Dad are you going to die soon?"
"Yeah I'm not very well, son"
On the drive they passed a few of the monuments they had seen for most of their lives in Waikanae.
Things that illicted some slight feeling each one an anchor into the small town reality.
Nostalgia a heaven, a neverending bath in the past, just hot enough to warm the heart.
Yet the familiarity of it was Hell, one that Joe couldn't stomach.
The town was composed of dozens of roundabouts that gave the impression one could simply drive around one forever or until the gasoline ran out at least.
Each piece of news John shared seemed like a miracle, a new painting on an impossible canvas.
Joe was interested. But felt like he was watching a t.v screen from many meters away. Or watching a play from the backrows.
As they got into the condo, lunch was on the table.
They spoke of family friends and Joe's current projects and aspirations.
The afternoon sun was never this hot for an April in Waikanae.
Most of the windows of the house capturing the sun at some point of the day.
John struggled out of hs chair and excused himself.
"John don't you want help to get up the stairs?"
"No I'll be fine" John said effortfully.
"Dad you've changed so much" Joe commented.
"How you do you mean" As john made his way up the spiral staircase to the third floor.
"You don't talk about politics anymore." Joe commented
"I try not to speak ill of anyone anymore." John said
Joe walked back down to join his mother.
Joe thought to himself.
"My father was well spoken as a young entrepeneur. Over the years he became blunt and uncaring of others opinions. Now he watches what he says to people." Joe commented.
"He's a lot easier to live with" Veronica said in a pleasant way.
A human tendency or the circe of life.
From dependent children, to dependable adults hopefully, to dependent eldery once again.
From making noises out of baby mouths, to learning to speak as children, then losing all cognition to speak as our brain fails us.
The very beginning and end seem to be completely incoherent, only the middle makes any sense. Possible plugs from the before to the after, a circle within a circle.
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