The Zella Chronicles

Old, gray, watery eyes looked out the hospital window at the weeping willows blowing in the evening breeze. He remembered that’s what they were from when he brought his wife, Maddy, years ago. A gnarly hand wiped the unbidden tears as a sigh escaped his dry lips.

A pretty young nurse breezed into the room, checked his chart, and smiled up at him, “So you are the famous Mr. Zygi!”

With a low chuckle, he answered “Famous? Me? I don’t think so.”   He waved a hand to the empty room, “Just look at the crowd.” A short laugh turned into a cough. Looking up he asked, “Say, where’s Helen? Now, she’s one good nurse.”

With a sad shake of her head, Zella answered, “She has a bad case of the flu, but, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.” She fluffed up and arranged his pillows, bumping him with her elbow. Grabbing a large bottle of lotion, she squeezed a generous amount into her palm and dripped her way over to his feet, where she enthusiastically applied it as she massaged.

“Eeoow! That’s cold!”

As the lotion warmed, she moved to massage his leg and arm. He nodded and sighed contentedly at the massage on his left side, but hardly felt a thing on his right. His recent stroke left that half of his body useless. Finished with the massage, she leaned across the bed to gently replace his hand at his side. A book fell out of her pocket. “Oh,” she exclaimed as she picked it up.

“What are you reading there?”

“The best book ever written!” she replied as she turned the book around, “The Bible!”

Zygi’s eyes lit up, “Well, that’s the best thing I’ve heard all day! Got any time to read some to me?” A pathetic look on his face, he pleaded, “These old eyes don’t work so well anymore, and I would love to hear some scripture.”

Checking her watch, she looked around, shrugged, and answered, “Sure, there’s nothing I’d like more.” She sat on the visitor’s chair next to the bed and opened the Bible. “Any special place you’d like to hear?”

“How about some Psalms?”

“Sure thing.” Opening the Bible, her hands quickly found the scripture she wanted. “It is a good thing to give thanks unto the LORD, and to sing praises unto thy name, O most High: To shew forth thy lovingkindness in the morning, and thy faithfulness every night.”

“Like music to my ears,” he breathed through a wispy smile. “Please continue.”

She read through the 92nd Psalm. Many passages spoke to the old man: “The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree; They shall still bring forth fruit in old age; the LORD is upright: he is my rock.”

When she finished, he heaved a contented sigh, “Thank you so much. How did you know my favorite Psalm?”

“Must have been the LORD,”