One of the gifts of “growing older” is that there is time to reflect on the past. We have many friends throughout our lives. Some are with us for many years, others for a shorter time, or just passing through, but they make a lasting impression. They settle quietly into our hearts and continue to influence us throughout our lives.
When I was 24 I lived in a four-plex in a second floor apartment in Vero Beach, Fla. On that floor there was one other apartment occupied by Mrs. Wilkes, who was tiny and quite old. (I used to think 76 was old!)
The day I moved in I was greeted by her toddling down the hall with a small plate in her hand. On it was a round cake she called a “hoe cake.” She had baked corn bread for me! It was the beginning of a warm friendship. I stopped often to have a chat. She shared her history with me. She grew up in Georgia and her conversation was softened by her southern accent. She took pleasure in telling me how she met her husband. She was just a girl in her teens shopping in a local store. A man came through the door with his friends. He was captivated at once with the pretty girl by the counter. He turned to his friends and said, “See that girl, I’m going to marry her!” I don’t know how long they were married or when she came to live in Vero, but she had family in town who made regular visits.
One day that I stopped in she seemed particularly glad to see me. “Honey I’ve been feeling so blue!” The word “blue” went up in tone like the notes in a song. She went on to explain she had been thinking about “the poor starving children in Europe”! We never ran out of things to discuss.
On Saturdays she would take her cane and walk brusquely up the street. One Saturday I happened to be doing some errands in town. Inadvertently I arrived just as Mrs. Wilkes was opening the door and going in to “Johnny’s” bar. A sheepish smile appeared on her face but she recovered in short order and invited me to join her for a beer. I found myself sitting across the table from her. Her small wrinkled face was framed with silver hair and she peered at me through her glasses. She was so small she could barely see over the glass of gold liquid topped with foam.
I don’t know what sparked her family’s concern but her granddaughter asked me to “keep an eye on her.” As it turned out a problem did arise. One day I knocked on the door and there was no answer. I let myself in and found Mrs. Wilkes in bed. Her forehead was hot. I pulled back the sheet that was covering her. I could have fried an egg on her back! She had a stroke! I called her granddaughter immediately. Her family promptly took her to a nursing home in Fort Pierce.
When I visited her there she was alternating between hallucinating, telling me that “someone had broken into her home and stolen all her money” and moments of clarity when her eyes looked into mine. It was then she smiled and told me that “when music was playing on the radio she found she could still wiggle her toes in time to the music”!
I often think of her and marvel at the ability of the human spirit to rise above adversity and embrace joy in the most unlikely circumstances.