SEA LION WOMEN - dawn corrigan


dawn corrigan

At my grandparents' assisted living facility, love is in the air. The singleton residents pair up and disengage and pair up again with the frequency of sea lions.

My grandmother updates me when I go to visit. We huddle together in the dining room over her two cups of tea.

"See that woman there?" she says, as a resident I haven't seen before passes by. She's tall and striking, her back unbent, a slightly wild look to her face and hair. She glides past at a stately pace with her walker.

"I do," I say.

"She's dating ... let's see ... there he is," my nana says, indicating a man. He has white hair and glasses and a rounded back. I think the back must be disappointing to a woman who's remained so upright, defying gravity and time.

But what do I know. Maybe if I make it to 80 I'll finally be less uptight.

Dawn Corrigan
The Judas Hole
Calvin Haul