A Snowy Day


It snowed during this first week of spring. The yellow forsythia blooms did not look quite as cheerful wrapped in their white coats. It was my day of the week to visit my “adopted grandma” in the nursing home. I did not want to leave my warm house, but Mrs. B. depends on me to brighten her dismal days, and I had to scrape the snow off the car later anyway to take the dog for his bath appointment. Under a dreary sky, I drove through the bright landscape wondering about spring, but grudgingly recognized how beautiful the snow was clinging to branches and early flowers. In Japan, snow is thought of as winter’s flowers – a lovely metaphor from the land where nature is revered as art, but at this time of year I feel that is positive thinking.

Mrs. B., as usual, was delighted to see me; I was glad to have ventured out into the cold to be a warm spot in her life. I brought her some little snack baggies of cookies, donut holes, and homemade banana bread. Mrs. B. is not-so-patiently waiting for God to relieve her suffering by taking her to heaven, so what does a little extra cholesterol matter. She regularly asks me what God is waiting for and I tell her that He’s not ready for her yet, that he must still have a plan for her … like He must think it’s good for me to visit her. We laugh, but I know that visiting Mrs. B. is good for my soul. She doesn’t understand how she who seemingly has nothing to offer to the world can make me feel good inside, knowing that my little self can be of comfort to someone, can ease their misery for just awhile. So here we are, two little people who think we’re nobody special, yet to each other we are so important. Don’t underestimate yourself.

Advertisements

About moonbridgebooks

Co-author of Cherry Blossoms in Twilight, a WWII Japan memoir of her mother's childhood; Co-author/Editor of Battlefield Doc, a medic's memoir of combat duty during the Korean War; life writing enthusiast; loves history and culture (especially Japan), and cats
This entry was posted in sharing. Bookmark the permalink.