Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup; you make my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. Psalm 16:5-6
My life is so good it’s almost wicked. I just honked out O Happy Day! on my harmonica. Never mind its 2:40 A.M. I nap when I want.
Yes, my balance is shot, but my faithful 4-wheel horse Old Red gets me where I need to go. Distant travel is no more; local trips grow fewer and fewer; but twice a month a bus hauls us to shopping centers–free to us geezers. STRIDE gets me to appointments. Both have elevating ramps.
A laundry/cleaning lady comes every other week and a health aid assists with showering and my belly bag weekly. The mailman brings my meds—two prescriptions. Woodland Garden maintenance guys fix anything I want.
The girl from 313 cooks suppers with left overs for lunch–I’m a Micro Wave grand master. Breakfasts even: sausage and eggs. Mr. Coffee serves the beverage. Frequent socials and dinners for residents welcome me.
I live mostly pain-free; no pending surgeries. Excellent medical and dental professionals serve me. Pension and Social Security cover expenses with a little over. HUD Section 8 provides a cozy apartment in a wooded setting a duck pond—six duckling survived thus far. Edmond’s Realty takes marvelous care of Woodland Garden. I call the 64-resident mix Sociology 101—one of every kind.
Best of all, dear Norma, the girl from 313. She calls herself my S.O., Superior Officer. With no viable family nearby, she’s my go-to gal, shopper, and companion. I am blessed beyond measure. My soul is at ease. My blog and Facebook reach lands near and far. My family are kind. What more could a guy ask for? On August 29 I turn 96.
Old Grandpa Lloyd