For the Benefit of Mr. Kite
The meeting of Mr. Kite
"What am I supposed to do at a nursing home?" Of course, my Mom doesn't understand how I could be asking such a "silly" question. She loves nursing homes and all the people in 'em. I personally don't like anything about nursing homes. Everyone there is old and smelly, uninteresting, and there's just nothing to do there. What could be fun about it?
My Mother answered me with the typical reply she had been giving me for days leading up to this, "Olivia, don't be such a downer about things. I swear, I should have named you Debbie." She always joked about me like that. Truthfully, I'm a downer about a lot of things. I'm not depressed or sad. I'm not mentally ill. I am, however, shy and quiet. I'm calm and usually pessimistic about things. As well as I just don't find excitement in many things.
No matter how much I had complained the past couple of days there wasn't going to be anything I could do to make my Mom not bring me to the nursing home. So she dragged me, kicking and screaming, all the way there. Not literally, of course. I was actually in a mini van with my little brother, Joseph, and one of his friends, Amelia, so I wasn't really being "dragged". And I didn't scream, screaming is immature. I'm ten, I'm too old to act like such a little kid.
When we arrived at the nursing home it was just as I imagined it, dull and boring. I would have done anything to be able to escape from this prison I'd be stuck inside of for the next hour. Luckily my Mom let me go on my own while she watched Joseph and Amelia. I was bound to find one way or another to escape this boring place.
Hide under a table? Too obvious. In a bathroom? Ew, not with these old people. I was walking by the kitchen when...there it was! the perfect hiding spot! A big table in the center of the kitchen with a huge table cloth stretched out over it covering all of the table until the cloth reached the floor. I crouched down by the wall, luckily nobody else was around, and tried to decide when would be best to bolt for it. I had a debate going on in my head for the longest time that I didn't even realize when someone walked up behind me.
"Oh!" I nearly screamed when somebody tapped my shoulder. I looked behind me to see an old wrinkly face with bright blue eyes. He had dark gray hair going down by his face, ending at his earlobes. His nose was pretty big and pointed downwards. His lips were slightly pink and you could tell he certainly smiled a lot. He was wearing fancy black shoes, dress pants, and a white short-sleeved shirt, but with a dark blue fluffy bathrobe over it. I didn't quite understand why he would dress so nice if he was just going to wear a bathrobe over it. But I just shrugged it off. What was more important was that he had caught me about to sneak into the kitchen, and also what was going to happen next.
Surprisingly he crouched down beside me and said "What is our adventure today?"
Obviously he was crazy. I wasn't on an adventure. Only babies who are stuck in their immature imaginary world go on adventures. I'M mature, though. I rolled my eyes at his question and said, "Adventures are for babies."
At that moment he started sucking his thumb and made crying noises, but his crying noises were ten times quieter than a babies, that way we wouldn't get caught.
"Who are you?" I asked, amazed at how this old man was acting. He wasn't acting like a boring old man at all!
"I am the celebrated Mr. Kite! Who are you, darling?" He whispered with excitement.
"I am certainly NOT 'darling'. My name is Olivia. Excuse me, but aren't you supposed to be acting the way most old people do? You know, boring, uninteresting?"
"Obviously all the old people you have ever met haven't told you enough stories! Come with me, I'll tell you all the stories I've got! what do ya say?" He then held out his hand towards me. I wasn't sure whether or not I should go. He's OLD. No story he could possibly tell me would be exciting. Why waste the time? But something was making me want to go with him and hear what more he had to say.
Before I knew it, I grabbed his hand and we got up from the floor, then walked along the halls with my hand still in his.
My Mother answered me with the typical reply she had been giving me for days leading up to this, "Olivia, don't be such a downer about things. I swear, I should have named you Debbie." She always joked about me like that. Truthfully, I'm a downer about a lot of things. I'm not depressed or sad. I'm not mentally ill. I am, however, shy and quiet. I'm calm and usually pessimistic about things. As well as I just don't find excitement in many things.
No matter how much I had complained the past couple of days there wasn't going to be anything I could do to make my Mom not bring me to the nursing home. So she dragged me, kicking and screaming, all the way there. Not literally, of course. I was actually in a mini van with my little brother, Joseph, and one of his friends, Amelia, so I wasn't really being "dragged". And I didn't scream, screaming is immature. I'm ten, I'm too old to act like such a little kid.
When we arrived at the nursing home it was just as I imagined it, dull and boring. I would have done anything to be able to escape from this prison I'd be stuck inside of for the next hour. Luckily my Mom let me go on my own while she watched Joseph and Amelia. I was bound to find one way or another to escape this boring place.
Hide under a table? Too obvious. In a bathroom? Ew, not with these old people. I was walking by the kitchen when...there it was! the perfect hiding spot! A big table in the center of the kitchen with a huge table cloth stretched out over it covering all of the table until the cloth reached the floor. I crouched down by the wall, luckily nobody else was around, and tried to decide when would be best to bolt for it. I had a debate going on in my head for the longest time that I didn't even realize when someone walked up behind me.
"Oh!" I nearly screamed when somebody tapped my shoulder. I looked behind me to see an old wrinkly face with bright blue eyes. He had dark gray hair going down by his face, ending at his earlobes. His nose was pretty big and pointed downwards. His lips were slightly pink and you could tell he certainly smiled a lot. He was wearing fancy black shoes, dress pants, and a white short-sleeved shirt, but with a dark blue fluffy bathrobe over it. I didn't quite understand why he would dress so nice if he was just going to wear a bathrobe over it. But I just shrugged it off. What was more important was that he had caught me about to sneak into the kitchen, and also what was going to happen next.
Surprisingly he crouched down beside me and said "What is our adventure today?"
Obviously he was crazy. I wasn't on an adventure. Only babies who are stuck in their immature imaginary world go on adventures. I'M mature, though. I rolled my eyes at his question and said, "Adventures are for babies."
At that moment he started sucking his thumb and made crying noises, but his crying noises were ten times quieter than a babies, that way we wouldn't get caught.
"Who are you?" I asked, amazed at how this old man was acting. He wasn't acting like a boring old man at all!
"I am the celebrated Mr. Kite! Who are you, darling?" He whispered with excitement.
"I am certainly NOT 'darling'. My name is Olivia. Excuse me, but aren't you supposed to be acting the way most old people do? You know, boring, uninteresting?"
"Obviously all the old people you have ever met haven't told you enough stories! Come with me, I'll tell you all the stories I've got! what do ya say?" He then held out his hand towards me. I wasn't sure whether or not I should go. He's OLD. No story he could possibly tell me would be exciting. Why waste the time? But something was making me want to go with him and hear what more he had to say.
Before I knew it, I grabbed his hand and we got up from the floor, then walked along the halls with my hand still in his.