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that soon enough. When we presented the My sister and I sat on the stoop he used to
cord pants to him, we said they were mole- frequent, talking of the "good old days," and
skin. He grinned and laughed, oblivious as to
what we were talking about, but delighted. remembering when he sat on the step waiting
On coherent days he was melancholy and for his ice cream, singing, longing for moleskin
quiet, though when the district nurse, a pretty pants. We hoped and wished and crossed our
Irish girl, came to check up on him he perked fingers that Buck would revert back into his
up. His hand would rise and linger in the air former self. Even if that self was his "bread,
as if he would like to pat her. cooked brown," "close those sheets," self. He
would ask for bread, but without specifica-
"Nice bum," he said once when she vis- tion, and he would point to the curtains, but
ited on a day the whole family was there for never mentioned what they were or what he
tea. My sister laughed hysterically, helpless, wanted us to do. We would get our hopes up,
clutching me like a child, and my parents convincing ourselves that he showed prom-
looked away. ise, but he never came full circle.
Recently Buck had a stroke. When the Irish nurse came in, Buck's un-
paralyzed hand rose, as if separate from him.
His left side was paralyzed, and the hos- It hovered in the air, and we would hold our
pice workers were left helping him with his breaths, thinking that today might be the day.
speech. Some days he tried for sounds, but al- But today never was the day. His eyes didn't
ways ended up closing his eyes in frustration. sparkle, his lips didn't move, and eventually
He kept forgetting what he had learned the his arm would drop back to his side.
previous day.
Nevertheless, in my mind I heard, "Nice
bum."
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