Hershey’s Bar

Dad is set to mark his first year in assisted living. It’s going so well and his health and spirits are thriving. He’s also managed to make friends, namely a pair of mild Trumpian males who have shifted their loyalties to DeSantis. They typically avoid political discussions, but I have a feeling Dad might win the two men over from the dark side by the time the election rolls around.

I visit Dad four or five times a week and we discuss current events, my house maintenance projects, poetry, his personal history, and the state of the facility and its frequent staffing issues.

Not once have I felt it a chore to visit. I feel fortunate to have this unique opportunity to spend time with him and discover what goes on inside an assisted living center for middle-income seniors.

What goes on is fascinating but I rarely write about it.

The other day, however, I observed something between two residents that truly moved me so much emotionally that I thought it worth writing about here.

I was standing outside the facility on a hot afternoon, waiting to meet Dad’s pedicurist.

A males resident in a wheelchair was facing the sun. Sitting in a chair next to him was a female resident. He extricated a Hershey’s chocolate bar from his shirt pocket and extended it toward her. He said something as he did this but I didn’t catch it. He was so frail he could barely hold up the bar.

I noticed the candy bar drooping toward the ground, obviously melted.

The woman grabbed it as if she was shaking a hand. She began to unwrap it.

Have you ever tried unwrapping a melted chocolate bar? I have, several times. It is nearly impossible.

The woman managed to unwrap half it of, and took a bite, or was it a drink? She said thank you and handed it back to him.