Phyllis

Phyllis, born 1932 in Lemmon, South Dakota, (US), reflects upon her life, believing that she’s transitioning well to growing old.
Hindsight widens her perceptions. At 89 she considers herself fortunate to be in touch with some of her grandchildren, but believes her children or grandchildren have no responsibility to help her.
She doesn’t say she’s old, rather she prefers to say, “she’s getting old.” There are stages to the process, but she concedes “when you get to 85 plus, you’re old, so suck it up; it’s just the way it is.”
Phyllis’ parents were second generation Norwegians. Her father pastored a Lutheran Church in Devil’s Lake, North Dakota. Pastor’s children are observed closely by parishioners, Phyllis remembers during 32 years as the pastor’s kid, she was seen a lot, as were her five sisters.
With hindsight offered by aging; she understands her judgements of people were “sometimes silly”.
She and her sisters expected people to be like they were, which wasn’t the case for her youngest sister, Solveig’s husband.  Phyllis and her sisters alienated him because it was rumoured, he’d been in jail. Phyllis regrets her response to him. 
Today, she accepts people with lives different from hers, understanding her past perceptions were narrow.
The doorbell rings; Phyllis answers. Outside, stands a neighbour who shovelled her sidewalk. He wants to visit. His girlfriend helped Phyllis with some tasks. He protests he didn’t expect payment for his work.
Phyllis replies, “I do as I want, because I can, and I want to pay you.” She gives him money.
Phyllis returns to sit before a large living room window, proclaiming her joy from a good love story, which this couple provides. Their happiness makes her happy.
Casting a look outside, she embraces the light seeping into her living room, announcing “I love this room.” She’s not ready to leave here yet, but when she does, she’s leaving everything behind.
Phyllis met her husband, Kenneth McFadden, in Moorhead, Minnesota where they both attended Concordia College. He was a football player; she a cheerleader. Together almost 70 years, Ken refers to Phyllis as his “girlfriend.”
As Phyllis’s children grew, Ken told his stories at the dinner table, as she worked in the kitchen keeping her memories stored. She enjoyed hearing stories about his family, but today she enjoys telling her stories, a privilege of aging.