She put her ear up to the wall. His music heard a bit louder, she almost could remember the words, “let me call you sweetheart”. He played it often and she knew it was their song.
Many days she heard it playing and it was only yesterday, putting her ear up to the separation between their rooms, that she heard him singing clearly.
The nursing home was not a place for privacy and even though the walls were thin, she felt a shyness in her guilt for listening.
Mona asked the nurses about him but they refused to give her any information. She didn’t even know what he looked like, but thought she might recognize his voice.
An afternoon like any other with visiting well intended volunteers was often enjoyable. This day the old piano was rolled into the cafeteria and someone sat down to play. Songs of her teenage years brought memories of school dances, picnics in the park and movie theater intermissions.
As the song “Let me call you sweetheart” began, Mona saw a man straighten and perk up. Suddenly he started singing along and I knew then it was my adjoining neighbor. I joined him in the chorus as many others followed also, but now I knew the mystery man.
***
The Bag Lady 
A poignant story.
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What a precious story.
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Thanks for reading.
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