Dear Reader,
I saw her sitting outside on the porch in front of the assisted living center. There was an empty chair next to her and I knew it was waiting for me.
Meet Bessie.
I don't know how the conversation got started, but soon after "Hellos," Bessie was telling me stories from her childhood.
"When I was a girl we didn't wear shoes in the summer and every evening before we got ready for bed, my sister and cousins and I would sit side-by-side, our legs dangling down off the edge of the porch. A big wooden barrel nearby was filled with water. Daddy would dip some water into a pan, and one-by-one each of us would wash our feet before we went to bed. But when the pan filled with water got to me, Daddy would wash my feet for me.
Just a little bit envious of the special attention, my cousins and sister would ask, "Daddy, why are you washing Bessie's feet?"
"Because she's too little," her Daddy would say. Bessie smiled that little girl smile as she explained, "After Daddy washed my feet he'd scoop me up into his arms, carry me into the house and rock me to sleep." Bessie smiles so...when she talks about her daddy.
There were no phones. No cars. The doctor made house calls in a horse and buggy. So when Bessie's little sister became very ill, her daddy had to run to the doctor's home on the other side of town. "The doctor came in the house and my cousins and I were very, very quiet. It's the way we were brought up, you know."
When the doctor came out of the bedroom from seeing Bessie's sister, he told her father, "Your daughter has diphtheria. I'm going to have to quarantine this house for two months. And you're all going to have to get some shots." Bessie said she started crying.
"Why he had to mention a shot, I don't know," Bessie said. "I ran underneath the table. After the doctor finished giving shots to everyone else, he looked underneath the table at me and said. 'It's your turn Bessie.'
"I looked at my daddy, 'tell him I'm too little Daddy!'"
But her daddy leaned in under the table, "Bessie, I'm sorry we can't say you're too little this time, honey. You have to get the shot."
Bessie left school in the 7th grade because she wanted to get married and have babies. Pregnant four months after getting married, Bessie had another baby two years later, and another two years after that.
When she was pregnant with her first child, Bessie went to see the doctor, the same doctor who had taken care of her sister years ago. Instead of a horse and buggy, the doctor had an office now, and when Bessie told him she'd like him to be her doctor, he replied with a smile, "Are you sure you're not 'too little' Bessie?"
Bessie loved her mom and dad. They created loving memories for her, and taught her how to pass that love on to her own children. When Bessie couldn't live by herself any longer and decided to move into assisted living, each one of her three children invited Bessie to live with them instead. Not just a polite gesture, but a genuine, loving "Come live with me, Mom."
"You have your own family," Bessie told them. "Besides, I love the place I live in now. I get involved in everything and the people are so nice. I even paint. I didn't know I could paint."
At first, Bessie went to the painting class just to watch other people. But now even though her eyesight is failing her, she's able to paint what she feels in her heart, and she shares her paintings. "My room is filled with paintings, and my son and daughter have some hanging in their homes, too."
Bessie says she loves when folks come to visit, "Whenever someone comes to my room, no matter who it is, black or white or whatever, I always give them a hug and tell them 'I love you' before they leave. Stop by and let me show you my paintings."
"Bessie, it's a date. I'm looking forward to it. I have to go now. Can I give you a hug?"
"Goodbye Suzanne, I love you."
"Goodbye, Bessie. I love you, too."
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