chassit

Last Tuesday, the day after the fourth of July, it was hot and dry and I stood outside a house full of mourners, with the taste of watery lemonade lingering in my mouth.

Here's the backstory.

On Friday, I was volunteering at the nursing home. I went to sign in and get my vest on, and above the sign in sheet was a notice - a family wanted to thank everyone who took care of their mother, and people who helped were more than welcome to come by. For a second I didn't recognize the name, but then it hit me. I knew the lady - I had intended to visit her that day.

I got my vest on and I asked another person what happened. They said she had passed away a few days earlier, in the afternoon. She was in no pain. Somehow I kept myself from breaking down. I was rather proud of myself, actually.

I went to visit a resident that I know - Alice, she's been mentioned before - and then I cried. I used up a couple of tissues and Alice gave me a hug. She understood. She had no problem with me getting a few tears out there. At least that way none of the staff saw me crying, and I didn't bother anyone else. (I'm pretty sure Grandma has it instilled in the person who picks and runs volunteering that, if I started to cry or get frazzled, to call her up instantly. I wouldn't put it past her.)

Mom picked me up after a bit, but I still thought about the woman who passed away - her name was Leona, and she was very sweet. I had met one of her daughters once, and she probably wouldn't recognize me, but it still felt like I should go and give my condolences.

It took a lot of poking and prodding and begging. Mom didn't want me to impose. Grandma didn't want me to bug them. All I asked for was fifteen minutes.

Mom finally gave in and let me go there. It said that visitors could come from three to six, and we had about fifteen minutes until then. On the way there, we passed a Lemonade Stand run by two young girls - I think we were their first and only buyers, since they were incredibly excited when I came over to buy some.

The fifteen minutes passed, and Mom pulled into the driveway. I could see two doors - one at the front, one at the side. Mom said to go to the one at the side, first.

There was a doorbell there, and I rang it. I stood there, awkward and nervous. I wondered if I should have just stayed home.

The fact was that while I knew Leona, I didn't know her well. I knew she used to be a teacher. I knew she was Jewish. I know she was terribly excited to watch the royal wedding. I knew she had this little silver tiara she loved to wear. I knew she liked to hold hands, and she was very good at it.

She didn't talk much, or at least very well - once you've been there long enough, you can tell which residents are fading and how they are. Sometimes they can't talk as well, but they're still almost all there. Sometimes it's almost violent - they yell and threaten. I've only seen one lady like that, however.

But I sat with her, and I held her hand, and sometimes we talked and sometimes we watched some TV. I think she liked Don't Forget The Lyrics!

I stood there and nobody came to that door - but I heard Mom saying "Melinda! The front door!"

I scampered over to the steps and up them. I started to introduce myself - my name, and then the lady's eyes lit up and she told me to come inside. She then asked Mom - Mom said sure.

She ushered me inside and gave me a tight hug. She said that hugging me was like hugging her Mom again.

I can't make that up, and I wouldn't.

She introduced me to people - first my name and then as 'a volunteer at the home' and told people that I sat with Leona a lot. She told me thank you, for sitting with her mother. It had gotten hard, seeing her fade, and she said that she'd seen me with the residents and how good I was with them.

She showed me needlepoints Leona did - full of color and shading and detail. A store front. A person sitting under a tree. A bridge with water under it.

She also said she apologized if her mother said anything impolite or such - but really, nothing she said or did made me think that. She was always nice to me - one of the reasons I liked talking with her.

I told her that I wasn't sure if I should come, but it felt right - she told me to trust my intuition more. She gave me another hug, and soon after Mom came and collected me.

I wish I had some way to wrap this up. Some important and impressive thing to say. But I don't. So -

Goodnight, Leona Perelman.

So anyway, it's been a couple of days, so y'all are being treated to a post before I work on homework.

There was swimming in gym class, and I actually went. We were playing (well, it was mainly a goof-off day, but hey!) pool volleyball/whatever-the-hell-it-was, and I actually did pretty good! They told me to 'stop short of drowning somebody' and everything else was good. I tackled a couple of people. A friend of mine had a blast watching me do so.

Today we got Cookie's ashes back. We'll probably spread them somewhere, but I don't know where.

Mom and I might to go a movie tomorrow, which should be cool. Shutter Island. Whee! I hear there's a book out, too, which I'll probably read after the movie or something.

In the good side of things, there's this game I've been playing, called 'Epic Pet Wars.' Type it in a search engine, there you go. At first it's easy, and then it gets harder the higher you go. When you come across weapons with a negative income, ahahaha, fun. You use strategy and stuff.

Anyway, I have two 'pets', an Oddur called 'astrootter' and an Amoebus called 'notcomplex.' (if you can figure out where the second name comes from, you win a cookie.) One looks like an otter, the other... well, you get the gist.

Your pets can battle other pets, and there's stuff that you can use in battles to bring your HP back up. But this isn't the point I'm getting at. The thing is that some people have names like 'ikilluuuu' or 'dethdealer' or whatever like that.

I have obliterated two pets named 'ipwnu1' and 'deathdealer'. I possibly should have not gotten so much satisfaction from it, but damn it was fun. :D