I SEE YOUR HEART !!!!
A slight whimper was evidenced as the body moved ever so slightly in the bed. A bed
that was neither too hard or too soft but much appreciated. White hair drifted over the mounds of the pillow, rosey cheeks peeked from under the covers…. eyes remaining shut.
It’s another day she thought as she stretched knobby fingers and grimaced as the stiffness showed who’s boss. They’ll be here shortly to get me up, she thought. I hear them in Mrs. Monson’s bath next door. Poor Mrs. Monson. I didn’t think she’d make it after her last episode. Tough one she is!!!!
“Ah, Greta, there you are!” she heard the nurse ask. Like where else does she think I’d be!
I’ve lived in this place for 5, going on 6 years now…. I know every move they are going to make in this day. And they sound as though they are surprised at my being here. Silly girls.
“Which one are you?” asked Greta.
“It’s Sylvie” replied the nurse. “We have a special day planned today. Some of the children from that pre- school will be coming to give us a Valentine Party. We’ll get you up and get your hair done before lunch so that you can attend.
“I don’t need to go to a party. I’ll stay right here.” Said Greta
“Oh no you aren’t. They need help with the songs and you have one of the prettiest
voices here, so you must get ready and help them. You know you love it when the young’ns come. Swing your legs this way, now. Good. Now you can stand up.”
Sylvie kept on with her pace, nudging Greta along all the while. Sylvie liked Greta.
She only complained once in a while….today she must be in pain because she seldom wants to stay in her room.
Later, at the Valentine Party, a little girl with big blue eyes, as clear as the ocean,
was standing directly in front of Greta. They kept looking at each other and then the little girl would look down at Greta’s hands.
The little girl said,” Hi, my name is Morgan. What’s your name?”
“Greta”, she replied.
Inquisitive as the day is long, Morgan asked, “How old are you Greta?”
Greta chuckled. “Child,” she said. “ My heart has been thumping for ner’y a hundred years, give or take.”
The big blue eyes got bigger. “A hundred! That’s a lot of thumping,” exclaimed Morgan, this time reaching out to touch the older ladies’ hand. The touch was warm and smooth and Morgan told her so!!!
“Yes, “ said Greta, “My hands are always warm. My mama used to say “cold hands, warm heart” but I don’t think that’s always right. My hands are warm because I like to keep busy. Hands are beautiful, don’t you think?”
“Your hands are beautiful,” said Morgan.
“So are yours,” commented the older and wiser one. “Sometimes you can tell a lot about someone by their hands.”
The old lady leaned her head back on her chair and said quietly, “ Hands are meant to be doing good for others. So many people need things that we take for granted. Like fixing food when someones down and out, or offering to do errands when things are rough for them, or standing on guard in prayer when there’s trouble all about…. That’s what makes hands and people beautiful.”
Morgan was gazing now all the while stroking the back of Greta’s hands and running her finger back and forth between the spots that most would want to wish away.
“You see those spots?” Greta wasn’t really asking a question but it was more of a decree that how could one miss them, so big and brown. “I used to tell myself that a spot would appear every time I did something kind for someone. Did you ever hear that?”
Morgan relayed that she never had. Then she spied it, a spot shaped just like a heart!
“Ohhh,” whispered Morgan, bending closer and closer to the hand , her warm breath on the old ladies skin, “Now, I see your heart!”
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