“I saw you coming,” a broad beautiful smile on her face
as she was opening her door for me. I
had texted my neighbor/friend yesterday afternoon while lying in the sun reading a magazine and listening to a You Tube Chillout mix of Spanish
guitar. (incidentally, that was a great
mix -- goes well with chillin in the sun specifically) Wondering how she was getting along since I
last visited, that dreadful day when I first saw her covered with cuts and
bruises and hemorrhaging, but miraculously no broken bones, I wanted desperately to spend a little time
with her and try to make her smile -- or better yet, laugh. It is without question the BEST kind of
medicine for healing.
Her eyes were no longer deep blackish-purple, and the
swelling had gone down in both of them.
She had a gigantic discolored knot on the top right of her forehead, and
her face was still splotched with dark patches of blue, purple and black. The usual scurrying gait she is known for was
gone, and she was walking more gently, deliberately, but still very much
ambulatory. For those who don’t know
her, the movements would have seemed almost normal. But she is a ball of constant motion and
energy -- one of the things that endears me to her -- and seeing her in first
gear was a big clue that healing is still very much ongoing.
Her dogs Lucy and Frosty greeted me at the door, and I
loved on them a little more than usual.
I’m sure their lives were a little off kilter too, and the extra love
and attention would do their hearts a world of good. As I was sitting her gift bag on the counter and
placing her ice cream I had brought her in the freezer, I spied a basket of beautiful
deep violet tulips nearby and told her I wished I’d brought my camera, I could
have had a field day with them. “You and
your artistic eye,” she laughed, “I think everything you see must appear as art
to you.” Hmmm. Interesting point. Likely true.
She knows me well.
I mentioned I had brought a bottle of red wine and
asked if she was up to sharing a glass with me -- we love our red wine, and
many of our more cherished times have been in the company of a glass of
vintage. With a characteristic twinkle in her eye, she said, “Oh, I haven’t
had a glass of wine in a while, that would be fantastic.” She mentioned she had just the thing to go
with our wine. A friend had stopped by
earlier with a small box of white chocolate covered strawberries, drizzled in dark. Yes.
Bingo, my friend. We are set!
Although my plan was to stay no more than an hour, I
could see as time passed that she was having a ball being able to unload and
exchange and laugh. The diversion had
become therapeutic, and I decided to go with the flow. She talked about her accident, her injuries,
her stages of healing. She mentioned
that her lawyer, who specializes in this sort of faulty acceleration
litigation, had stopped by and interviewed her, and we talked at length about
her case and other similar accidents like hers, the victims, the
circumstances. She wanted to talk. I listened.
She kept repeating how she still could not believe her life (and bones)
were spared, especially after seeing the photos. She said she can’t look at them any longer
because it makes her want to throw up.
As the conversation sequed into life since the accident, she mentioned
that friends and neighbors had been so good to her, and that her sons were
still very much in charge of seeing to her every need. This led to our discussing mutual friends,
surrounding neighbors, and I mentioned the neighbor who had been to see her the
day that I first stopped by. She rolled
her eyes, laughed a little cryptically, then said, “Oh, mercy…she means well.” She laughed some more. And then I laughed. And then we both started laughing
hysterically, erupting into a huge giggle fest.
The wine, it seemed, had begun to unleash its welcomed and remedial
properties. We both knew that this woman
drove everyone a little nuts, and she told me she always has to remind herself
when she sees her coming, “Now…be nice.”
We laughed again. It was no
secret the poor woman just had a terrible case of runs of the mouth.
This was my cue. I mentioned I had blogged about that woman
the very next day, having been so disturbed with her rudeness I wanted to punch
her out and drag her ass out of there right then. She laughed uncontrollably then said, "I want
to read the post!" I offered to read it
to her -- her eyesight still very challenged from the accident. After reading the post from my cell phone,
having to stop from time to time to allow her to catch her breath from
laughing, she said, “Oh, my gosh, I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed
this hard. It feels so good to be this
happy.”
She made my day.
It’s what I came for. This woman
needed and deserved a disconnect from sad and doubt and painful healing to a
restorative joy for life -- the kind of joy she is unmistakably known for.
I stayed another ten minutes or so, realizing she may
need to go lie down and rest. I had
brought her some DVD’s from my collection -- we share similar tastes in movies
-- and reminded her to enjoy the snacks I had brought her while watching one of
the movies tonight. “Oh, you’re reading
my mind,” she answered. “I’m gonna have
that ice cream! I’m craving that ice
cream!”
Yeah, tell me about it, I uttered to myself.
Meanwhile, I’m basking in the throes of dieting success,
down 9.5 lbs since February 3rd.
So you choose, T:
The goal you’ve set for May 31st?
Or the ice cream…?
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