Thursday, July 10, 2008

My Oldest Friend

A Sunday Scribblings Prompt

She’s ninety five, and because of a stroke, her limbs are of no more use than branches on a backwards tree. So every day someone dresses her, as if she were still going to her old job at the courthouse—soft knit dress, slip, hose worn like knee socks, and brown penny-loafers— then lifts her out of bed to the recliner, where she sits patiently, watching television in the dusky living room. The house is old around her, filled with the furniture of her grandparents and carrying the smells of two bygone centuries. This is her entire world, well almost. Every evening, her son pulls out the wheelchair and the two of them go down to Benny Jack’s to eat catfish and hushpuppies. It’s like an expedition to the carnival: lots of noise; loud, lively music; real people crowded into booths and tables so close the waitresses must take turns passing by. The gossip is delightful to her old ears—who’s getting married, whose son became a fighter pilot, and who’s having trouble with that bunch of amateurs up at the courthouse.

I met her this summer when her substitute caretaker ran into some problems and asked for my help. Imagine meeting someone the first time when they come into your room holding a bucket and asking if they can give you a wash.

“Are you a nurse,” she asked suspiciously. (Much can be forgiven nurses.)

“No. Just a friend of your friend here”

“I’m not going to let you do it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“This is one of those emergencies,” interjected the sitter, “You don’t really have a choice, because I can’t do this by myself.”

“What’s your name?”

“Lilibeth”

“Mine’s Mim. You don’t hear a name like that much anymore.”

“It’s a pretty name, and it happens to be the name of my little grand-daughter.”

“Well imagine that! Her parents named her Mim, huh?”

“They did.”

“Well, if we’re going to do this, we’d better get started.”

So we did. It’s an odd way to meet someone, but it certainly does away with all the social airs and graces and lets one get on with just being friends.

That wasn't the last time I ever saw her, for life has a way of letting people meet again.

Three weeks ago, when I told her goodbye, she was sitting stiffly in the recliner, funny little hose still rolled at the knee, smiling in spite of her strait-cast life, ordering the sitter to sit over by the window and quit being so nervous and fluttery.

My old friend Mim.

17 comments:

rebecca said...

oh, my, how touching was this. you've left me misty eyed....95! and she seems like she's got all her mental faculties intact. amazing. God bless her. i love how you wrote: "her limbs are of no more use than branches on a backwards tree." so uniquely descriptive.

this was beautiful, lilibeth...just beautiful.

Carina said...

Meeting in those circumstances you have to be either total and permanent strangers, or sudden friends.

anthonynorth said...

A poignant post in many ways.
Excellent.

Anonymous said...

A lovely story tenderly told. Just beautiful.

aftergrace said...

Beautifully told. It's sweet the way she warmed up to you over the name "Mim", and how very patient you were with her.

Whitesnake said...

Beautiful......pure and simple

Anonymous said...

Very touching... strange how the smallest detail can allow people to bond!

Anonymous said...

Beautifully told, I hope someone like you becomes my friend at that age ... written with such tenderness and understanding, Thank You :)

Rob Kistner said...

Captivating... and bravo for the relationship. ;)

Forgetfulone said...

Nice story. Thanks for stopping by my SS. I'm afraid you might have misunderstood what I meant by humiliation being a "friend." I thought it would read like satire, as it was supposed to, but perhaps I wasn't successful in conveying that. Thanks for dropping by anyway. I liked your story about Mim.

Anonymous said...

Beautiful!

Lucy said...

oh sweet little old Mim... I truly loved this heartwarming tale Lil!

b+ (Retire In Style Blog) said...

I would love to meet your MIM. I write about a place called "The waiting room for heaven". Your Mim would love it there.

b

danni said...

such a gentle touching tale of bonding - you and mim were both very lucky!!!

LA Nickers said...

Such special moments to savor . . .

Blessings,
Linda

INTEGRITY, at NICKERS AND INK

Anonymous said...

I see you took the word oldest not to mean for the longest time but in age!!!Smart! I would have probably had more options had I read the word that way...but alas I didn't. I loved your post and my motherinlaw would really love it too! You touched a part of humanity that the simple acts of exchanging that make our lives meaningful. My ss post is longwinded but hopefully you'll like it too:
http://amarettogirl.squarespace.com/the-written-word/

Tammy Brierly said...

I hope I have that same wonderful spunk when get my first caregiver. Loved this! Bless you