Thread: Counting to Forty-Five

One…Two…Three… It looks like a park bench. The bench is made of concrete, and has a slightly rounded shape. The curve of the bench matches the curve of the artistically placed bricks of the walkway leading to it. Four… Five… Six… The foliage at both sides of the walkway appears to be green; late summer is my guess. It is pleasant to gaze upon; it has a soothing quality yet I still count – Seven… Eight… Nine…

“Wake up Maggie I think I got something to say to you.” Ten… Eleven… Twelve… Shirley is obviously a Rod Stewart fan. That’s okay; I don’t mind. I can’t complain anyway since she did ask me if I wanted to choose. Besides, Rod was big when I was growing up, and it reminds me of my youth.

Thirteen… Fourteen… Fifteen… I went for a ride last week, and drove by the house I grew up in. The trees, which were planted in the early 70’s by my father, look as though they had been there much longer. The house on the hill, which once basked in the warmth of the summer sun, is now hidden away by the shade of several trees. It just didn’t look right. Sixteen… Seventeen… Eighteen… The big oak tree, located at the corner of our road, was gone; only a rotting stump remained. Although I know this is where I grew up it still seems to be a different world; a different place – I guess, in a sense, it is. Nineteen… Twenty… Twenty-one…

Each morning, during my commute, I try to find back roads to take. I remember the names of most of them, but don’t recall where they lead to. Twenty-two… Twenty-three… Twenty-four… I turn down them anyway hoping to find a woods, or cornfield to stop and admire. I want to find a spot that I can hear crickets chirping, and the gentle breeze blowing. I want to be where it is void of the sound of traffic, and the daily humming sound. Twenty-five… Twenty-six… Twenty-seven…

I see myself much like the deer that is isolated to a growing metropolitan area. Houses, businesses, and shopping centers have sprung up everywhere, and the deer and I are attracted to the small clumps of trees that remain. Twenty-eight… Twenty-nine… Thirty… For those who live here, fulltime, I am sure they think there is plenty of nature around, but I know better. It is not bad, but it is not the “Huron National Forest.”

Thirty-two… Thirty-three… Thirty-four… You can feel in the air that summer is winding down. The nighttime air is cool, and the daytime air lacks the humid punch that was present just a couple of weeks ago. I am always sad to see summer end, but I love the look, and feel of autumn. Thirty-Five… Thirty-six… Thirty-seven… Football is just around the corner, and this town will be going crazy. “The Big House” will be filled to capacity, and “GO BLUE” will echo throughout the land. I have always loved “Meechigan” football since my dad took me to my first game in 1969 to see this new coach named “Bo.” Thirty-eight… Thirty-nine… Forty…

The autumn in Ann Arbor is indeed a special place. The energy is amazing, and the town is alive. However, at home, I can look out my back door, and see a beautiful transformation take place. It starts with hints of red and yellow showing up in the maple tree that sits just to the west of the marsh behind my house. The days are beautiful; the temperature is perfect. Then, soon, bright burning colors can be seen everywhere, and the leaves begin to fall. The air smells sweet with pine. Forty-one… Forty-two… Forty-three… I will go inside to the smell of homemade stew cooking on the stove, and the crackling of a small fire in the fireplace. Ahhhh… My wife sure is a good cook.

I bet that park is beautiful in the fall. Forty-four… The humming sound stops after the machine finishes with the last of seven positions. Forty-five… Damn – almost perfect. I can hear the large protective door swing open. The lights come on, and the park scene, on the ceiling tiles above, goes dark. Shirley walks in, and says, “All done – we will see you tomorrow.”

I get dressed, and leave the hospital. Only a few more treatments and I will be finished. I am grateful for the University of Michigan Cancer Center, and to me, the people there are “The Leaders and The Best,” but I think they understand that I am getting tired of seeing them. I want to go home.

Very intense and interesting. I like the way you counted throughout and the ending perfectly described the whole purpose wonderfully. I can't imagine how it feels to go through this, but can completely appreciate your sentiments. The statement "I want to go home", holds so much more meaning and depth than the simple words say. Good writing.

Thank you for your kind words. I felt as though the idea of "counting" would keep the reader focused while I lead them to the simple point behind it. In regards to how it feels to go through this: It has opened my eyes to a lot of things that I have been oblivious to in the past. I know it sounds crazy, but I actually see it as a gift. Kind of crazy that something like this is what it takes to wake some people up.

Not so crazy, makes good sense to me. Best of luck to you.

I turn down them anyway hoping to find a woods, or cornfield to stop and admire.

Shouldn't it be "..to find woods, or a cornfield"?

I didn't understand why you would be tired of visiting the cancer center, if those people were indeed the leaders and the best. I would spend time with them!

Originally Posted by Wryture

Shouldn't it be "..to find woods, or a cornfield"?

I don't think so -- but I could be wrong.

Originally Posted by Wryture

I didn't understand why you would be tired of visiting the cancer center, if those people were indeed the leaders and the best. I would spend time with them!

I am not sure if you are serious with this one. In case you are... No longer visiting them would mean I have finished my cancer treatment. Even though they are the world leader in this type of treatment it does not make one desire to go through treatment.

I really liked how the counting led me through your thoughts and I enjoy all of the places and things you described. It was such an interesting story and yes, the simplicity of the ending had quite an impact.

I hope that you will soon be finished with your treatments and doing well. There IS something about serious illness that makes us focus on the world around us and appreciate the things in it. I would agree it is a gift.

May your journey be blessed!

Just a few suggestions (in green):

Originally Posted by ClosetWriter

The foliage at both sides of the walkway appears to be green; [The foliage on both sides of the walkway are of the deepest green;] late summer is my guess. It is pleasant to gaze upon; it has a soothing quality yet I still count – Seven… Eight… Nine…

“Wake up Maggie I think I got something to say to you.” Ten… Eleven… Twelve… Shirley is obviously a Rod Stewart fan. That’s okay; I don’t mind. I can’t complain anyway since she did ask me if I wanted to choose. Besides, Rod was big when I was growing up, and it reminds me of my youth.

Thirteen… Fourteen… Fifteen… I went for a ride last week, and drove by the house I grew up in. The trees, which were planted in the early 70’s by my father, look as though they had been there much longer. The house on the hill, which once basked in the warmth of the summer sun, is now hidden away by the shade of several trees. It just didn’t look right. Sixteen… Seventeen… Eighteen… The big oak tree, located at the corner of our road, was gone; only a rotting stump remained. Although I know this is where I grew up it still seems to be a different world; a different place – I guess, in a sense, it is. Nineteen… Twenty… Twenty-one…

Each morning, during my commute, I try to find back roads to take. I remember the names of most of them, but don’t recall where they lead to. Twenty-two… Twenty-three… Twenty-four… I turn down them anyway hoping to find a woods, or cornfield [hoping to find a thicket or cornfield] to stop and admire. I want to find a spot that [where] I can hear crickets chirping and [feel] the gentle breeze blowing [on my face]. I want to be where it is void of the sound of traffic, and the daily humming sound.[I want to get away from the constant hum of daily traffic.] Twenty-five… Twenty-six… Twenty-seven…

I see myself much like the deer that is isolated to a growing metropolitan area [much like the deer whose home is being encroached upon by "civilization."]. Houses, businesses, and shopping centers have sprung up everywhere, and the deer and I are attracted to the small clumps of trees that remain. Twenty-eight… Twenty-nine… Thirty… For those who live here, fulltime, I am sure they think there is plenty of nature around, but I know better. It is not bad, but it is not the “Huron National Forest.”

Thirty-two… Thirty-three… Thirty-four… You can feel in the air that summer is winding down. The nighttime air is cool, and the daytime air lacks the humid punch that was present just a couple of weeks ago. I am always sad to see summer end, but I love the look and feel of autumn. Thirty-Five… Thirty-six… Thirty-seven… Football is just around the corner, and [soon] this town will be going crazy. The “Big House” will be filled to capacity and “GO BLUE” will echo throughout the land. I have always loved “Meechigan” football since my dad took me to my first game in 1969 to see this new coach named “Bo.” Thirty-eight… Thirty-nine… Forty…

The autumn in Ann Arbor is indeed a special place. [Autumn in Ann Arbor is like nowhere else.] The energy is amazing and the town is alive. However, at home, I can look out my back door, [All I have to do when I'm home is to look out my back door] and see a beautiful transformation take [taking] place. It starts with hints of red and yellow showing up in the maple tree that sits just to the west of the marsh behind my house. The days are beautiful; the temperature is perfect. Then, soon, bright burning colors can be seen everywhere, [Soon, bright, burning colors seem to be everywhere] and the leaves begin to fall. The air smells sweet with pine. Forty-one… Forty-two… Forty-three… I will go inside to the smell of homemade stew cooking on the stove, and the crackling of a small fire in the fireplace. Ahhhh… My wife sure is a good cook.

I bet that park is beautiful in the fall. Forty-four… The humming sound stops after the machine finishes with the last of seven positions. Forty-five… Damn – almost perfect. I can hear the large protective door swing open. The lights come on, and the park scene, on the ceiling tiles above, goes dark. Shirley walks in, and says, “All done – we will see you tomorrow.”

I get dressed and leave the hospital. Only a few more treatments and I will be finished. I am grateful for the University of Michigan Cancer Center, and to me, the people there are “The Leaders and The Best,” but I think they understand that I am getting tired of seeing them. I want to go home.

There has not been one thing I have written that I haven't gone back and wished I had worded it differently. Thanks for your input.

Originally Posted by nerot

I really liked how the counting led me through your thoughts and I enjoy all of the places and things you described. It was such an interesting story and yes, the simplicity of the ending had quite an impact.

I hope that you will soon be finished with your treatments and doing well. There IS something about serious illness that makes us focus on the world around us and appreciate the things in it. I would agree it is a gift.

May your journey be blessed!

Thank you for your kind words, and I have finished my treatment and am feeling great. Time will tell.

Hi ClosetWriter,
At risk of making myself look silly....why the number Forty-five? Am I missing an underlying element? The number of chemicals in your treatment? or the number of your treatment room? sorry, if too painful, ignore my post.
My best,
C

Originally Posted by Cricri

Hi ClosetWriter,
At risk of making myself look silly....why the number Forty-five? Am I missing an underlying element? The number of chemicals in your treatment? or the number of your treatment room? sorry, if too painful, ignore my post.
My best,
C

Not silly... 45 seconds was the length of time the radiation machine would run. It would stop, and move to another position; then it would start again for another 45 seconds. It became a habit of mine to count to 45, so that I knew when I could rest from trying not to move.