Remembering James

He slowly padded his way down the carpeted hallway, each shuffled step as determined as the last to find it’s destination. And the destination? No where in particular. Or, if there was a destination, it was soon forgotten.

His shoulders were hunched, his head lowered. Calm brown eyes surveyed the blue utility carpet with unfocused intensity. Along the way, a battered brown slipper interrupted the soothing expanse of cheap polyester. It caught his interest.

With a hand on the wall, he groaned as he leaned down to pick up the slipper. By the time he was standing with it firmly in hand, he was at a loss of what to do with it. He fiddled with the frayed leather strings. He turned it over and over in his hand, staring at it in confusion. His wandering began anew, this time with the purpose of finding a home for the new object that had somehow found its way in his hand.

He slowly padded his way down the carpeted hallway, each shuffled step as determined as the last to find it’s destination. And the destination? No where in particular. Or, if there was a destination, it was soon forgotten.

Odd as it was, there was a raggedy looking slipper in his hand. He set it down upon a chair. A flurry of color and wings drew his attention to the large window before him. The trees were swaying back and forth as if they were lazily waving hello. The sun peeked from behind a cloud to shine its glory upon the manicured garden. He sighed with a longing he couldn’t quite express; couldn’t quite understand.

Turing away from the picturesque scene, he stumbled slightly. He barely caught himself from falling to the ground with an unsteady hand on a chair. On the chair was an ugly slipper. He frowned, unhappy with the disorder of the place. He picked it up, intending to put it away.

He slowly padded his way down the carpeted hallway, each shuffled step as determined as the last to find it’s destination. And the destination? No where in particular. Or, if there was a destination, it was soon forgotten.

The hall emptied into a television area. A couch was occupied by a sleeping man, and the two chairs flanking the couch were empty. A woman stood motionless beside the murmuring television, her eyes tranquil and her smile tremulous as she stared at a spot somewhere in her past. He made his way past them, to where four tables were set for lunch. Ten were expected to dine.

His stomach complained loudly, but he couldn’t eat quite yet. Someone had given him a slipper, and he needed to find a home for it. The counter seemed a good place for it as anywhere else. He placed it there. Finished with his errand, he followed the sound of a raised voice.

He slowly padded his way down the carpeted hallway, each shuffled step as determined as the last to find it’s destination. And the destination? No where in particular. Or, if there was a destination, it was soon forgotten.

Along the hallway he followed; the path circling back on itself again and again. Twice he passed the television room; twice he passed the tables set for ten; twice he passed the counter, and not once did he see a thing.

A woman dressed in green scrubs stopped him once to push a smooth tablet into his mouth. Instinctively, he bit down on it, and a bitter flavor spread through his mouth. The woman handed him a glass, and he washed the bitterness away with a cool sip of water. To lunch, she announced, and he smiled in anticipation of his favorite past time: food.

He slowly padded his way down the carpeted hallway, each shuffled step as determined as the last to find it’s destination. And the destination? No where in particular. Or, if there was a destination, it was soon forgotten.

Eventually, he passed a television that mumbled the quiet dialogue of some sappy romance movie. The sofa was vacant, so he sat. Though his eyes were trained on the speaking box, the simple plot was beyond his comprehension. Nevertheless, the vibrant colors and changing scenes were wildly entertaining.

Unfortunately, the lull in his walking reminded him how tired he was. He let his eyelids droop, and he slumbered until a woman startled him awake. Lunch, she reminded him, and he smiled in anticipation of his favorite past time: food.

He slowly padded his way down the carpeted hallway, each shuffled step as determined as the last to find it’s destination. And the destination? No where in particular. Or, if there was a destination, it was soon forgotten.

This time, the woman followed in his wake. She guided him to sit with his nine other guests, and then walked away. He sat there happily for a few minutes, conversing with a nearby gentleman; each chatting on about something different from the other. Then something completely out of place on a countertop caught his eye.

A slipper - old, shabby, and falling apart - sat on the counter alongside platters of food that let loose their tantalizing aromas in thin steaming rivulets. What it was doing there was beyond him, but that didn’t matter. He got up, and scooped the offending item off the counter. It needed to be put away, and evidently no one was capable of doing that but him.

He slowly padded his way down the carpeted hallway, each shuffled step as determined as the last to find it’s destination. And the destination? No where in particular. Or, if there was a destination, it was soon forgotten…