A very young lady by the name of Emma just made my day. Years from now it’s unlikely that she’ll remember our conversation, but it’s one that I’ll not soon forget.
A week or so back her Mom brought me a hot meal as part of the Food Train program for which she (being Mom), and about a dozen or so other volunteers donate their time, ingredients and cooking talents to make sure people like me in our area get a chance at regular, hot, nutritious food. Without meals (and yummy snacks!) being brought to me by these volunteers and my friends, my diet would mainly consist of meal replacement drinks (not a terribly attractive option at the hungriest of times) and Babybel cheese (but even unwrapping those on some days is more than my fingers can handle).
It was her Mom’s first visit to me, and I was looking forward to meeting her. That day was not a good one physically, and I was confined to bed. As luck would allow that Monday afternoon, a friend was visiting who could do take care of door duties. I had let my friend know that if Mom felt comfortable, she could come down the hall to the bedroom so that we could meet.
When my friend opened the door, I could hear additional voices. Voices of little people. Before I knew it, I had Mom at the bedroom door holding her toddler and young Emma (in kindergarten) was standing at my bedside, close enough to put her hands on the covers.
A very engaging young lady, we spoke of school, red ponies and various other topics which she covered off with enthused expression and gesture.
It was one of those moments that filled me with great delight (as a former family photographer, this sort of interaction would have been the absolute highlight of a photo session), but it also made me miss my photography days so deeply.
On Friday I received an envelope in the mail. It’s the day that my mail is usually fetched for me from downstairs, typically it’s bills, flyers and nothing that’s likely to put a smile on my face. This envelope however had Emma’s name in the top left corner. I waited until after my PSW left before opening it. Inside was a letter, a picture Emma had drawn, a sticker and a tattoo.
What she wrote is between she and I, but I will tell you it let forth a torrent of happy tears sliding down my face.
I wanted to thank Emma for her thoughtfulness, but wanted to wait until I had a bit of a voice to speak with – it went AWOL again Friday night and had returned this afternoon. Well, now it’s gone again – but I take my opportunities when they come.
We just a short while ago finished a lovely chat, she on speakerphone so I could hear her parents’ contributions to the conversation as well. We’ve made a plan for her to come back to help me apply the tattoo - of Cinderella, Emma has selected my elbow as the perfect spot. I’ll wear it proudly. And I’ll be careful not to scrub it off in the bath so it lasts as long as possible.
Emma told me about soccer practice this afternoon, and then said that she has something very important to tell me. “I love you”. At that moment I was so grateful that she was on the phone and couldn’t see my face. I tried to keep a steady tone to my voice, but inside I was melting.
It made me realize how much I miss having children in my life. The photo sessions always lifted me to a place of remembering how much I enjoyed the different stages my own daughter went through. When asked if I missed a particular age/stage, my answer was always the same – it only gets better as each day goes along.
And it has. I enjoy my daughter’s company more than ever. The nice thing about memories is that they can be recalled and lived over again, so I’ve never truly lost those moments when she used to crawl up into my lap and snuggle into the crook of my neck, animatedly tell me about her school day, and proudly show me her latest creations. In the late hours of last night when neither of us could sleep, she’d sent me a link to crazy science discoveries that she knew that I’d enjoy as much as she had.
This morning started out with a heaviness in my heart as I was being reminded of just how warm the day is becoming, and that I can’t go out to enjoy it. I was thinking about my short and quite reasonable bucket list, and how not one of the goals came to fruition. (I should qualify it with an acknowledgement of how many generous souls tried to give me the New York City experience – top on my list - in other ways). That in trying to help someone else who was in my life at the time realize the most important item on their bucket list, I had forfeited my own.
Sometimes you need to ask for what you need (as I did in my last blog post with the help of Lisa Bonchek Adams’ writing), and sometimes what you need just gets handed to you. Thank you Emma, I love you too. Blessings appear everywhere when I keep an open heart.
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Sandy, i just found your blog and have spent all afternoon reading it from the beginning, and what a read! ever since i met you, feeling very awkward, you have been in my thoughts and prayers. And Emma still remembers you, as the tattoo lady (sorry!) and will ask about your cat every time we drive past your building. Please know that your story has touched so many. No, YOU have touched so many, and i hope that your daughter can hold on to these memories you are creating with her and bring them out when needed. This post made me cry, as i remember that day, how frustrated i was that i had to haul all the kids up, and "please don't touch" and "leave the cat". I remember walking away, feeling so much more peaceful, and talking to Emma and Evan (who i don't think you met - he was playing with the cat) about why we made meals, and Emmas words: "well, she's our friend!" Thank you for allowing me to view that day, and my daughter, through your eyes
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