Visited one of my mother’s best friends today. She’s in the health center wing of the retirement community to which she and her husband moved just before she broke her hip a couple of years ago. She recognized my brother and me. We reminisced with her.
“You gave us a lot of fun times at your house, you know,” I said, just before leaving. “I hope so,” she said.
She asked us to bring her cats to her room, which we couldn’t do. “I love them,” she said. I told her a few stories about my cat. She fell asleep.
The visit was short.
Thinking of her this evening and of my mother and of the two of them laughing hysterically, putting on skits, sharing quips.
Nan is one of the wittiest, funniest people I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. What I appreciate most of all, though, is that she was a really, really good friend to my mother.
This morning, very early, I saw two men walking down the hall at the Y. One was black, older, kind of short and the other was from an Arabic country (accent sounded Lebanese), tall, young, probably about 25 or so. They were walking side-by-side. The younger one said, very sweetly, “I want to thank you for helping me yesterday,” and handed the older one a food item he’d prepared for him. The older one said, gently, “Oh, you didn’t have to do that.” And the younger one said, “I very much appreciated your help, please take.” The older one said, “Thank you,” and they walked together to the gym.
You might wonder why I mention their colors. Me, too. Maybe because it occurred to me that both men are members of minorities with a history of understanding and supporting each other. Maybe because I love encountering people from different cultures and backgrounds, and often do at that Y.
Anyway, it was a sweet start to this pretty, rainy day.