Ruby’s wrinkled hands grasped her chair’s cushiony armrest. The TV screen flashes bright colors that were blurred through her used eyes. The sound’s weren’t clear–too low of a register. But she knew what was happening, it was New Year’s Eve. It was surprising that her erratic sleep schedule allowed her to glimpse the start of the new year.
It was her ninety-sixth New Year, but she didn’t like to focus on that. It made it seem like too much time had passed, made her think of how long she had been on this earth, made her think of all she’s seen. Not that she’d change any of that, her decisions left room for improvement and error.
The screen flashed practically bright and the voices got louder, which Ruby assumed was screaming. She quickly put her hands together and bent her head so her gray hair covered her sunken face.
Her mama always told her to make a New Year’s wish, and she was one to follow rules. Well, the rules that pleased her. Ideas swarmed through her brain, but only one stuck out. An hour to be young again. Suddenly, images flushed through her memories.
Clear eyes.
The sound of voices.
Firm skin.
Joints that could move freely.
Ruby gasped. She could see more than blobby shapes. She stood up and took a step. Then another. Her strides were confident and easy. She ran to her one-floor house’s bathroom. Yellow walls watched her as she lifted her eyes to the mirror.
Tears threatened her new eyes, and she let them fall. She held an unwrinkled hand to her mouth. Glossy, healthy, brown hair fell off of her head. Her eyes were a vicious blue hue that demanded attention. Her face was like it was when she was young, perfectly freckled and beautiful.
“Oh my God,” she muttered, staring at the person in the mirror. There was something she needed to do. Ruby’s feet took her to her closet, where she grabbed her dancing shoes.
She danced until her wrinkles returned, until her sight left and her joints regained their arthritis.
Comments