Commentary

 

 

 
I went to the senior center in Vineyard Haven last Wednesday morning for my very first time. In fact it was my first visit to any senior center. I don’t like those euphemisms — senior, golden oldie, retiree.
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The sound of my childhood bedroom door echoed as I opened it. I stood in the middle of the tiny blue room and imagined everything just as it was when I was 12 — my twin bed with a starry comforter, a collage on one wall of magazine cutouts (lots of ‘N Sync), murals of fairies, flying mice, frogs playing fiddles and other whimsical things on another wall. My parents let me paint anything I wanted to on one wall.
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