This short story is from <Feel Better Compilation of Short Stories for Seniors> by Bradley Windrow. It is perfect for seniors, even for dementia patients. Be sure to read until the end, as there’s a special gift waiting for you! hope you enjoy it!
The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. –Lao Tzu
Mr. Jenkins, a spry and jovial senior, had a daily ritual that everyone in the retirement community knew well. Every morning, he’d venture out to the mango tree in his yard, armed with his trusty cane, to pluck the ripest mangoes. His love for these sweet fruits was matched only by his notorious habit of misplacing things: keys, glasses, and, as it turned out, even the cane he so relied on for his mango harvests.
Today, however, his routine hit a snag. As he prepared for his morning harvest, his cane was nowhere to be found. Mr. Jenkins stood in the middle of his living room, perplexed.
“Not again,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. He looked under the couch, behind the TV, and even in the refrigerator—after all, past experiences had taught him his search could never be too thorough.
With no cane in sight and determined not to miss his daily mango indulgence, Mr. Jenkins decided to improvise. He first grabbed a broom from the kitchen. It seemed like a feasible replacement, but as he tried to maneuver it to reach the higher branches, its length proved more cumbersome than helpful. In a particularly enthusiastic attempt, he accidentally knocked over a nearby potted plant, sending soil and ceramic shards across his porch.
“This won’t do,” he sighed, surveying the mess. Not one to give up, Mr. Jenkins then rummaged in the backyard for something else to use. He found a sturdy stick, but it was far too short, leaving the juiciest mangoes tantalizingly out of reach. His frustration mounted, but so did his resolve. Next, he ventured into his cluttered garage, where amidst the garden tools and old paint cans, he spotted an old cricket bat.
“Well, it’s worth a shot,” he remarked, a hint of optimism in his voice as he sized up the bat against his stature. Armed with the cricket bat, Mr. Jenkins returned to the mango tree. He positioned himself carefully, ready to test his unconventional tool. But as he lifted the bat and looked up, ready to swing at the low-hanging fruit, he froze. There, hanging casually from one of the branches, was his missing cane. It swayed slightly in the morning breeze as if waving at him.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mr. Jenkins exclaimed, a laugh escaping him. The situation was too absurd. “I was looking for you everywhere!” The realization that he had left it hanging right there during his last harvest and completely forgotten about it was both hilarious and quintessentially Mr. Jenkins.
Chuckling to himself, he retrieved his cane, abandoning the cricket bat on the ground. As he resumed his mango picking, using the cane to skillfully hook and pull down the ripe fruit, his laughter continued to echo through the yard.
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