Billy

Billy initially struck me as a grim, cranky woman who did not relate. She wears big, round glasses that are usually cloudy, and her shoulder length hair is streaked with grey and usually matted down. She is often sitting in the hallway when I come, and barely acknowledges me when I say hello. On the first day that I taught chair yoga at Walpan, she came in and stood among the others, but would not sit down and participate. At some point, she handed me a newspaper she had been reading, and suggested that I study it carefully. "I'll help you with the parts you don't understand," she said. What she gave me was an advertising insert for mattresses from the Star Ledger.

On Thursday, Billy was sitting in the living room watching t.v. As I passed her to go to Nikky's room, she grabbed my arm. "How are you," she asked. "It's always a treat to see you." I told her I was going to see Nikky. "If you need any help with anything, just let me know," she offered. Again, she gave me her newspaper; "This might be of some use today," she said. It was another advertising insert from the paper -- this one for a garden center. "Yes, this might come in handy," I said, tucking it under my arm. "That's a good girl," said Billy, and gave me the gift of a rare smile.