“I want to do a conga line dance,” Mildred said. Her four adult children were visiting Mildred at her nursing when Barbara, the oldest, asked her mother what she wanted to do.
“A conga line dance?” Barbara said. “Mother, don’t be silly. You’re in a wheelchair. How can you do a conga line dance?
Mildred got an annoyed look on her face. “You’re the one being silly, Barbara,” she said. “Your brothers, your sister, and you line up behind me and push me around the grounds in my chair while we dance to conga music. It’s not rocket science, dear.”
Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Linda Kreger.