Day Forty-One

Do you want me to change the color on your nails?

They'd just painted them yesterday.

Yes. They painted them a few days ago.

They painted them yesterday.

One of the workers had painted Ms. Bee's nails yesterday. I'd watched them come and get her, pushing her wheelchair up to the dining room. They'd polished her nails - a dark pink color. But she'd said yes, so I sat down and began to remove the bright polish. The polish that had been brushed across her nails -- yesterday.
I told her she had beautiful hands. She does. Asked her about her rings. Her husband gave her all of them. Her husband that was walking around the same unit of the assisted living I was hanging out in. The Alzheimer's unit.
Yesterday.
Yesterday, I'd asked her what her name was. She said, Honey, please don't ask me that. Though she always responded to it. There might have been moments when she didn't remember her name. But she always remember her husband. They met when they were in school, she shared with me. He must have thought you were really pretty, I responded. She didn't think she was. But Mr. Q was sitting next to her. She was pretty, he said. And I was smart.
I bet you make a good team, I told them.
She told me about how good he'd been to her, how he still showed her so much love.
I could see it.
It was the third set of nails that I'd painted that day. Well, second set and this lady I'd talked to a lot the day before let me paint one of her hands -- She wanted to keep a different color on the other. My kind of woman.
I'd gone to visit my boyfriend in Tennessee. Not too far from his house was an assisted living. I kept passing the building with the tiny sign that said, "Now Hiring."
I love senior citizens. I love to adopt other people's grandparents. So I'd stopped, listened to that Spirit speaking to my soul. I left a resume, but more importantly filled out a form to spend time there. My grandmother had Alzheimer's. I remember how I didn't spend very much time with her after she became really sick. I was dealing with my own demons and I was scared of who she had become. I distanced myself. But I thought of her, I thought of my great aunt that I loved very much and the short time she spent in an assisted living.
I remembered how blessed I felt to wipe her forehead, brush the hair from her eyes and listen to her breathe. To be there for her, in these moments where she was preparing to exit the life she'd known.
So I spent my mornings in TN with these beautiful people. Reading poetry, exercising, talking, helping with snack, playing games, and painting fingernails.
I also spent time learning. I left glowing. It wasn't easy every moment, but I needed to be there with them. To be there in the moments their families might not be able to bare. It didn't bring back my grandmother, but it helped me understand. It helped me heal. I was blessed and was able to bless and encourage. God brought things full circle.
One lady told me that her morning was better just because I was there. They talked about what a good girl I was. They told me they loved me. Hugs, I gave them hugs. I squeezed their hands. I rubbed their arms when they cried for no reason or just need some affection.
I healed through playtime, with someone else's grandparents.
Life is beautiful. And everything, is not so scary.