Troublesome verbs in English grammar

Troublesome Verbs

The Lonely People

Harold has lain in the mud and the dust since his house was foreclosed upon. He had lost his job early in the recession and then it was just a matter of time. Soon he lost his hope, then his dignity. This was followed by the loss of his wife and family and at last the house.

He had sat awake in his sleeping bag many nights contemplating the events that had led to his downfall and could not comprehend what he had done to wind up like this, homeless, hungry and alone. His wife and the kids were somewhere back east and once the divorce had been finalized he heard from them less and less until there was nothing. Now he made his home at night in the bushes of Prospect Park and spent his days panhandling in the city.

At 93 Maribel was grateful that most everything still worked. Before the trouble with her memory had started she had lain in bed until 6:00 AM (she didn't need an alarm) each morning before getting dressed in a floral print (she owned 13 different ones) and rain or shine headed out the door and up the hill to Prospect Park. She lived to walk and walked to live. Maribel's husband had passed away in 1984 and she had since outlived both of her children.

One night last week she had sat up at 1:00 A.M. And could not find her closet. She knew it was time to walk, but she could not find her shoes. The evening before she had set the table for dinner for four and was quite upset that the family was late again. Before she awoke at 1:00 A.M. she dreamt she had laid flowers on the graves of her loved ones.

The entry in her journal from the previous day read, Every time I pass by a mirror I think who in the hell is that old woman? Then I realize it's me. I am about the only one left now. It used to be I'd go to a funeral once a year, then twice, then once a month. Then for a time it became a weekly event. It got to where I was afraid to make plans with anyone. But that's no longer a worry.

I am about the only one left now.

Sometimes I get confused. I don't want the kids to think I'm losing it so I just call them all Honey because there all Honey's to me. It's strange but when I am sitting in the park and looking at young faces I can see them as old, and when I look at old faces I can picture them in their prime. But at my age I guess everyone is in their prime.

The day before Maribel awoke at 1:00 A.M. joggers dressed in brightly colored skin tight spandex and loose fitting grey cotton sweats had passed a wooden bench where she had sat in the park. She noticed a raggedy man with unruly tangled salt and pepper hair sitting in front of a sign at the southern entrance.

Harold is sitting in front of a sign proclaiming the park is closed from 10:00 P.M. To 6:00 A.M., "violators will be prosecuted." He had sat cross legged, perfectly still, his dirty hands dug deep into empty pockets judiciously weighing the benefits of prosecution for over two hours when his attention was grabbed by an old woman in a floral print dress staring at him. He slowly got up and headed for home. She never took her eyes off him.

The moon was full when Maribel arrived at Prospect Park at 1:45 A.M. She wondered where everybody was and cleaned her glasses. She did not notice it was still dark. She walked the path she always followed until she came to bench across from the lake. There she had sat and imagined the joggers with the faces of the long gone family passing by at regular intervals.