Bones, Bumps & Bruises

Julia hadn't been able to come to the dining room for meals since last Thursday. While Nikky was getting cleaned up for lunch, I knocked on Julia's door and went in to visit her. Julia's room is so cheery - the light makes the light pink walls glow a soft peach, and her windows look out on the most magnificient magenta rhododendrum, which is in full bloom. Julia looked small in her armchair, and motioned me in without getting up.

She was in her dressing gown -- a purple velour item with white flowers -- and her feet were bare and swollen. "I fell, you know," she said when I came in. "It was just horrible. I had gotten up to go to the bathroom, and my legs just gave out from under me. There was no way I was going to slide through these chairs to get to my phone, so I had to drag myself to the door. Can you imagine? I had to drag myself to the door and bang on it until Olga finally heard me from the dining room. Of course, I had locked the door, don't you know that my key was on the other side of the room. So poor Olga had to go downstairs to find the extra key, and there I was, crumpled on the floor like a rag doll."

Julia's arms and legs showed the effects of her fall. She has very fair skin and is prone to bruises anyway. But now, she had large, purplish circles, all over the side of her body that hit the ground. "Thank goodness I didn't break anything," she said. "I at least had the presence of mind not to try to break my fall with my hands. I tried to just gracefully collapse onto the floor." It was nice to see that even in her embarrassment over being so helpless, Julia had not lost her arch sense of humor.

She was happy to have me visit her. "Go over to my bookshelf," she instructed, "and bring me those lovely cranberry colored glass pieces. I want to show them to you before my grandson brings them back home. They're just too precious to leave here." I went to her shelf, where she had three red-hued glass objects: a cruette, bowl, and a vase. She lovingly handled each one, holding it up to the light, and admiring the beautiful pink-hued glass. "Aren't they just beautiful," she said, her voice caressing the pieces as much as her hands did. "Look at how the light shines through them." I remarked that the cruet looked like a lady, with the base as a skirt and the stopper as a small head. "I never noticed that," she said, "but you're right. From now on, she's my little bo-peep." Each piece brought back a memory of when she bought it -- a day-trip with her husband; a furtive purchase so he would not notice; a gift from a dear friend.

Sometimes we look around our homes at the things we've accumulated. Periodically, we purge those things, needing to clear out, stream down, clean up. But sometimes it's having those things around that bring us small but delicious, pleasures, as we remember when they came into our possession. It's nice to have objects that trigger stories, especially when our minds struggle to remember.