Lunar Eclipse at the Nearly Departed

NEW PROMPT: Tonight will feature a lunar eclipse - sadly for me, not visible from the US. Write a story or poem about observing, or attempting to observe, such an event.

Nurse Cindy takes the microphone in her hand and says, “Can we all quiet down? I have an announcement to make.”
It was early afternoon, right after lunch, in the dining room of the Nearly Departed Rest Home. Nurse Cindy was responsible for conveying daily news, procedural changes, community announcements, etc. Usually the event was, errmm, uneventful…but today there was a definite buzz in the air.

“Tonight, there is going to be a special-“

“Do we have to come to it?” blurts out Greta over in the corner by the snacks vending machine. “I hate having to do new things.”

Nurse Cindy continued, ignoring Greta’s “concern” and said, “Tonight, there’s going to be a special lunar eclipse and I just want to say-“

“Lumbar! That’s what I have,” interjects Ed, who is seated near the kitchen entrance swinging door. “It hurts like the Dickens on rainy days.”

“How many can we get?” asks Hank. “Is it just going to be one éclair or can we get several?”

Nurse Cindy grasps the microphone tighter in her desperate death-dealing grip and tries to calm down the seniors. “No, no…it’s a LUNAR ECLIPSE – nothing to do with lumber, Ed…and Hank, it’s eclipse not éclair.”


“Well, when are we getting an éclair?” Hank asks. “It’s been a long time!”

“I’ll have to check with Chef Jeffrey, Hank, and get back to you.”

Murmurs fill the dining room, eating utensils are clinking and dropping to the floor as walkers, canes, and wheelchairs become active.

“WAIT!” Nurse Cindy tries to maintain control of an everyday occurrence after lunch at the Nearly Departed: residents leaving to go take a nap. “This is a special eclipse…it doesn’t happen very often. It’s called the Blood Moon.”

“Blood? We have to give blood? Why? I just gave some Thursday…” comes from Earline as she’s just about out the door. She leans on her walker and continues, “Why are you people always asking for blood?”

Nurse Cindy wipes a bead of sweat off her left eyebrow, and says, “Earline, you don’t have to give blood. It’s a blood moon. It’s going to be reddish.”

“Radish? Who has a radish?” Milton balances himself on his cane his grandchildren gifted him with. “I haven’t had a radish in a long time. It’s about time we get decent food in this place.”

“Not radish, Milton; reddish as in blood-colored,” Nurse Cindy tells him.

“Why do we have to stay awake to see blood?” asks Greta. “I see it everyday in my stools. And sometimes when I cough. What’s so special about blood at night?”

Nurse Cindy almost gripping-fist-crushes the microphone and utters, “It’s not blood. It’s not eclairs. It’s not your lower back. It’s the moon! There’s going to be a lunar eclipse called a blood moon tonight. I thought you might be interested to see something that doesn’t occur often. That’s all.”

The residents limp, walk, wobble, waddle, wheel themselves out of the dining room.


LATER THAT NIGHT:
Nurse Cindy and candy-striper, Peggy, a 15-year-old from town, set up a table with cookies and punch for the “viewing of the lunar eclipse” on the patio of the Nearly Departed.
The minutes tick by as it approaches 9pm.
Nurse Cindy and Peggy nibble on a cookie or two.
And have some punch.


MUCH LATER THAT NIGHT:
Nurse Cindy and Peggy throw the uneaten cookies (there were a few left) and dump the leftover punch down the sink.


ELSEWHERE in the Nearly Departed Rest Home:
Everyone sleeeps and minimally snores during the lunar eclipse.


THE NEXT DAY AFTER LUNCH:
Nurse Cindy takes up the microphone, “Greetings and what a night it was last night, huh?”
“Is it time for bed already?” asks Dorothy, ready to dig into her chicken patty.


And life goes on at the Nearly Departed Rest Home – eclipse or no eclipse. Eclairs or no eclairs. Lumbar or no lumbar.
It’s just another day.

(684 words)