In these waning days of 2021 (am I REALLY writing this already) when everyone I know, myself included, are just sort of 'mmeehh' - neither good nor bad, neither depressed nor joyful, neither cold nor warm, neither utterly despairing nor hopeful, all just teetering along, taking each day as it comes - nay, each moment as it comes, when something really heartwarming happened.
A couple of cold and - thankfully rainy - afternoons ago, I sat at my kitchen/art table, laboriously mixing paints alongside the specified munsell chips. My phone rang - again. It never rings until the moment when I can't really answer. Already that afternoon I had got up several times to peer at the names appearing on my phone. Not easy to see the names, of course, but when I did discern them I didn't pick up the receiver. It rang yet again and I went into my darkening office/yoga studio/spare room and peered at the name. To my surprise a name from the past appeared. It was the grandmother of a little girl I had worked with at least 13 years ago.
Smiling I picked up the receiver.
This was a family I loved. The very first time I went to evaluate the little girl she sat in a high chair banging her spoon, drooling profusely. She had large black eyes and a shock of braids with different colored barrettes.- She took one look at me as I walked in and sat at the table, and she began to laugh. Apparently I was the funniest thing she had ever seen. She laughed and drooled and chuckled. Her grandmother was mortified, but that little girl's laugh was so contagious that she had set me off as well. And so began our love affair.
She and her twin brother were born at seven months on the streets of Fresno to a homeless, addicted mother. They were placed in foster care. The mother died, and the twin brother died also. Somehow the system tracked down her grandparents who lived in Richmond. They drove to Fresno and brought her home. It was quite obvious she had cerebral palsy, and so I began to see her from when she was 10 months old until she turned three.
This was during the great recession. The grandparents lost their home. They both worked, then grandfather lost his job. Grandmom's job was not nearly enough to support a family, but somehow, with faith, they carried on. The little girl never quite got over her mirth whenever I was there, but we managed to play and to work between bouts of laughter. She tried so hard to sit, to stand, to chew, to modulate her facial movements, to coordinate her limbs. It was for me another case of an environment in which the love was so thick and palpable it felt as if everyone was held, warm and upright.
The years passed, Granddad got his job back, they found a decent place to rent, they supported their granddaughter. She was going to school - she had botox injected to relax her muscles so she could stand and learn to walk, with the use of a walker. Eventually she had surgery.
After she turned three I no longer went there, but we kept in touch, and then I 'retired' (was retired) and that was 5 years ago. And now, on this gloomy day Grandmom called. What joy - we caught up and then I spoke to the no longer little girl, a teenager. She sounded incredible - she's in school and planning for college - I told grandmom how her call made me feel so grateful, and warm, and joyous, and she said - "Nesta - you were there for us through everything. We love you."
What more could I want?
