Nut, Part 3

George Zacker was never seen again by man nor beast. His mother lies there at home in her hospital bed, not knowing what’s going on. Beth and Sandy moved in to share the work of full-time caregivers. They almost broke up several times due to the surreal stress of this arrangement. They finally moved Mrs. Zacker to an assisted-living complex in Jackson, Georgia, twenty-five miles south of Atlanta in the tranquil woods of Henry County. Beth and her beautiful partner moved north and built a house among the breeze of gardenia and patchouli in the sweet Georgia hills near Lake Burton. Oh, and Beth, by the way, talked one night to Sandy about a memorial service for George. But time went by and it was never done, and they never talked about it again as if to ask without really thinking it, “ But why?”. Thursday visits Margie, not knowing that every time she shows up it is at the exact moment Margie is making coffee. They gulp laughter, almost choking on it, spraying coffee from their lips, covering their mouths splattering it all over the floor. They straighten up for a moment at one time or another and mention that the pot is good, but never again as good as it was “beFORE the SKWER-uhl.” Nut had no descendants. No little squirrels out there to skip in that funny way that Nut did. I just know it’s true. Just go outside. Look around. Look around in the park. Do you see any cute little squirrels doing cartwheels?