Backstage Writers - Think Hope Do

Colette wonders why I keep coming back.

“You make me laugh,” I say.

“Don’t let me be selfish. Tell me about you,” she says.

Somehow we get started. I speak loudly and distinctly and choose my words carefully. My accent leads to misunderstandings. She soon takes over the story-telling.

Colette says she’s looking for work. I wonder why. She’s 93 and well-worn by the kilometers she’s put on her feet. She’s spent years walking the art galleries of Paris, visiting artists in their studios. She’s written volumes about these talented individuals she’s admired and cherished so selflessly.

“Are you bored?” I ask. I’d be bored living in a home full of people too deaf and confused for conversation, a sterile-looking place with a revolving door staff and only one or two employees who take time to listen.

“You visit Colette because she absolves your guilt, is that it?” I’ve heard all the theories. The truth is I visit Colette because she uplifts me. And sometimes I get her to smile. Seeing Colette smile is worth the pee on the floor I have to wipe up, the pants that need pulling up, and the moments of panic because the assault that happened 40 years ago has just resurfaced. “It’s OK, Colette! They’re gone. I’m here.” When Colette smiles, you get gratitude and reassurance. “You’re all right, kid.” You get contentment. She’s letting herself go. She’s letting you see her let go.

I repeat my question to Colette. “Why do you want to work?”

“So I can keep learning things,” she says.

We’re back to the beginning, to the simplest of definitions. It is our duty to understand.

Her final question is always the same. “You will remember to come back, won’t you?”

My answer is always the same. “How can I forget? You make me laugh.”