Kindness Encounters

The Woman on the Other Side of the Fence

I’ve only spoken to Ina on the few occasions that I’ve taken mail over to her that has been mistakenly delivered to me.  She and her husband, Lester, live next door to me.  Houses in this quaint city neighborhood were built in the early 1940’s and although close together, they’re not of the cookie cutter variety.  Some are brick and some are shingled; there are some two-stories, some bungalows and some ranchers.  My house is a brick two-story and Ina and Lester’s house is a light blue shingled bungalow.  It’s very likely that Ina and Lester moved into in their house when it was brand new.  I’ve come to learn that the majority of older residents have stayed put in their first homes.  Our brief introduction took place a few days after I moved into the neighborhood.  I was returning home with groceries when she opened her aged metal storm door, leaned out and greeted me with a cheerful smile.  “Hi, hon!  I’m Ina.  Welcome!”  I told her my name and thanked her.  She then quickly closed the door and disappeared back inside her house.  She appeared to be a woman of around 75 years of age.  From the way she moves, I would guess that she suffers from arthritis.  If she has dentures, she chooses not to wear them, at least whenever I’ve spoken to her or seen her smile.  Actually, I’ve never seen her when she wasn’t smiling.  She is on the heavy side, wears heavy-framed, over-sized glasses and has neatly coifed gray hair.  She wears only dresses.

Appearance isn’t necessarily a priority in Ina’s life, but Lester certainly is.  I have never seen Lester.  The former owners of my house told me that he is in the final stages of Alzheimer’s and Ina cares for him 24 hours a day, seven days a week.  One day when I delivered misdirected mail to them, Ina opened the door without remembering to turn off the portable alarm on the door.  This is to alert her if Lester should try to get out of the house when she is in another room.  I felt very bad for disturbing them, as she nervously fumbled to turn off the alarm before retrieving the mail from me.  On that particular day, Ina told me herself that her husband had Alzheimer’s.  She volunteered that they didn’t have a car because they didn’t need one anymore.  She cheerfully said “I only go out to get groceries on Saturdays so I can cook for Dad, and my daughter drives me while my son-in-law stays with my husband.”  The rest of the time she is content to stay inside the house dutifully tending to Lester.  That is her whole life.  Ina and Lester have a lot of dedicated and loyal family and friends who visit them daily.  Two cleaning ladies come once a week and I’ve also noticed a home healthcare nurse who makes regular visits.  Family brings tulips and pansies in the spring, marigolds in the summer, and chrysanthemums in the fall.  Fun seasonal banners adorn her front porch.  She has one for every holiday.  On trash day, there is often an empty QVC box at the curb so I’m guessing that’s how Ina shops for other various and sundry items and gifts.  I can picture her glee as she sits in front of the television in her dark living room (the drapes are always closed) making her purchases over the phone during those times when Lester naps.

Often on spring and cooler summer days if her kitchen door is open, I can hear Ina talking to Lester when I’m on my patio or in the garden.  There is an 8-foot privacy fence between our yards but their back door is only about 20 feet from my patio.  They cannot see me and I cannot see them.  Although not a voyeur by nature, this is how I have fortuitously come to know about Ina and Lester’s undying love for each another.  I’m usually quietly working on some art piece on my patio in the morning when Ina first opens her back door.  She greets the day as if she had just taken her first step into Paradise.  I can hear her say to Lester, “Oh, honey, it’s such a beautiful day,” or “It’s going to be a hot one today.  But maybe it will rain; we really need some rain, don’t you think so?  The grass is starting to get so brown.”  Then she will open the door to address the scraggily gray and white neighborhood cat who Ina calls Lucy.   Ina feeds her but she told me once that she doesn’t claim her as her own.  She says to Lucy, “Good morning, gorgeous, how are you today?” as she pours dry cat food into the plastic Cool Whip container outside her back door.  When Ina goes back inside, she asks Lester what he would like for breakfast.  Lester never answers.  She ever so patiently talks to him as if she were talking to a baby.  “How about if I make you waffles today?  Would you like some waffles?  Are you hungry?  Huh, are you hungry this morning, sweetheart?  I’m going to make you some delicious waffles.”  I don’t know if Lester can still feed himself but some days he eats well and some days he doesn’t.  I know this because afterwards, Ina will comment, “Boy, you were hungry today, weren’t you, honey?  Weren’t those the best waffles you’ve ever had?  Mmm mmm!  They were great, if I do say so myself!  You always knew I was the best cook of all, didn’t you?”  On other days, she will ask him why he isn’t hungry and then asks him if he feels okay.  Ina always recalls to Lester some of the fun times they’ve had during their long life together.  She will say, “Lester, do you remember the time we took the kids to the beach on a beautiful day exactly like today?  They always had so much fun and I loved watching you teach each one of them how to swim.  That was a long time ago.  Do you remember?  Yeah, you remember, don’t you, Lester?”  Lester doesn’t answer.  Then Ina will sing some old song from their past to help Lester remember.  After the morning breakfast routine is done, Ina closes the back door and goes on with her day. 

Today, as I sat on the patio working on my latest mosaic project, as always, Ina opened the back door, invited the cat in and asked Lester what he wanted for breakfast.  Today he got eggs.  Today is Memorial Day, and Ina told Lester that Amanda was bringing them a picnic.  “Remember Amanda, our beautiful young granddaughter?  She’s bringing us a picnic because it’s Memorial Day; it’s the beginning of another summer for us.”  Today Ina did something that I had never noticed before.  I had only seen her being gingerly helped down the front steps and into the car for her weekly trek to the market.  She told Lester that she was putting a “seat belt” on him so he would stay put in his kitchen chair while she went outside for just a minute to bring him a surprise.  In a few minutes, I heard her come out the back door.  As she slowly ascended the back slope, I was surprised to see her over the fence as she vigilantly carried her heavy body up the uneven cinder block steps past the perfectly shaped holly bush to the very top of the back yard.  It was a strenuous journey for her and I myself could feel the pain in her joints, but she was a woman on a tender mission of love.  Muttering to them as she snipped away, she gathered a huge handful of fuchsia and white peonies.  She carefully labored back down the home made steps and into the kitchen, letting the screen door slam behind her.  “Look what I went and got just for you, Lester!  Smell them!  Have you ever smelled anything that sweet in your whole life?  Aren’t they just glorious?  Look at that deep pink color.  I don’t think they’ve ever been this pink before.  It must have been a good winter for our old peonies, Lester.  Do you remember when you planted that peony hedge up there?  I don’t even know how long ago that was.  But I can tell you that back in those days, the top of the hill sure seemed much closer to the house and not nearly so steep.  Just look at how big and beautiful they’ve grown to be.  Now we have flowers for our picnic.  We’re going to have a real Memorial Day picnic, just you and me, right here in this kitchen.  It can’t get any better than that, can it Lester?”  Lester didn’t answer. 

Today Ina brought me to tears.  Today her song was “That’s Amore.”  After singing to her beloved life companion, she said, “I love you Lester.  Yes I do.  I love you!  Can you tell me that you love me?  Come on, you can do it.”  Then, with words as tender as a young girl in love for the very first time, I barely heard her whisper “I know you can say it, sweetheart.  That’s the only thing you’ll say anymore.  Come on, say it.”  In his own way, Lester must have softly attempted to say “I love you” to Ina because, in her naturally animated and loud voice, she joyfully responded, “There, I knew you could do it.  I love you so much, honey!  Let’s put our picnic peonies in a vase.  We can show them to Amanda when she comes, and she can take some to the big family picnic.  We can’t go with her but our flowers sure can represent us just as if we were there.  That’s good enough, isn’t it?  It’s okay that we can’t go today.  Maybe next time!  We’ll be with the rest of the family in spirit – they understand how it is.  All we need is to be together.  Right, Lester?” 

It seems remarkable to me that Ina doesn’t ever allow room for self-pity in her life as a result of her heartbreaking situation of caring for her sick and dying husband, or because they can no longer get out and join in family gatherings.  As caring as Ina seems to be, it has to be disappointing for her not to be able to share these occasions with them.  But rather, she loves life to the fullest no matter how bleak and repetitious her days may be.  When she opens that door in the morning, she welcomes the day with a smile.  It’s one more day that she indulges herself in the pleasure of her husband’s company – one more day that she can love and care for him.  This day, she rejoices in the fact that the picnic food will be brought to her to share only with Lester, the love of her life.  For now, she still has that to cherish.  That’s all that matters to Ina.  I found myself sobbing because of the magnitude of love and kindness in the heart of this amazing woman – and her endless and faithful endurance. 

What a magnificent gift Ina chose to accept!  She has chosen to thrive, no matter what hardships have come her way!  And she gives that gift away every day to those family members and friends who stop by to check on the aging couple.  They all take away with themselves a small fragment of her uplifting energy and kindness.  They know how special they are to have Ina as their mother, grandmother and friend. 

Before I got to know Ina so well from experiencing the joy of overhearing her king and loving words spoken to Lester from the other side of the fence, it made me sad to think about how dismal her life as a virtual shut-in behind that closed door must be.  I wondered how she withstood the painful and tedious routine of caring for and watching the one she loves so deeply slip away bit by bit every day for however many years it’s been.   But after listening to her time after time, and especially today, I fully realized how blessed they both are to have one another.  Ina has found her bliss.  I guess no one really knows how Lester feels about anything anymore but I do know that he is somehow still able to declare his undying love for Ina.  And she cheerfully wears her great big toothless smile and keeps on spreading kindness.  I wish I could bottle her bliss – I would call it “Ina’s Tonic for Living!”  Couldn’t we all use a daily dose of that?

The Hospitality of a Morehead City Resident

Early one morning during a recent vacation to North Carolina with my cousin, Faith, we were on a photo expedition in a charming Morehead City neighborhood.  As I was shooting a photo of a grouping of 3 small birdhouses, we noticed the owner of the home watching us from her front porch.  She was still in her bathrobe, drinking her morning coffee.  Faith mentioned to the attractive elderly matriarch that we loved her street and were just taking some pictures of her birdhouses.  She replied that she had more to see and invited us into her back yard.  She passed through the house and met us in the back.  She introduced herself as Evelyn.  Evelyn showed us her son’s woodworking workshop in the garage and shared some history of her house and the neighborhood.  After chatting for a few minutes, we went on our way snapping photos up and down the quaint little street.  As we returned to the car which was parked in front if Evelyn’s house, she called to us, “girls, girls, would you like to come in and see some of my antiques?”  She had finished her coffee and gotten dressed.  We were thrilled with the opportunity to take a peek inside her little cottage.  Evelyn turned out to be the most interesting and hospitable little old lady – 92 years old, to be exact!  She gave us the tour of her house which included a 4-poster canopy bed, a clawfoot bathtub, antiques she had collected from all over the world, and a kitchen sink just like the one our grandmother used to have.  Evelyn was very proud of her travels and experiences with her deceased husband, her children, and her life’s collection that she had sheltered in her sweet little cottage.  For both Faith and I, it was one of those rare occasions with a stranger who rather seemed more like a long-lost relative from the past.  Our brief and friendly encounter with Evelyn added a special heartfelt appreciation for the kindness of strangers to our day and to our vacation.  And I think she was just as thrilled to have us come into her home so she could share a few of her fondest memories with us.  Thanks, Evelyn, for an unforgettable April morning in Morehead City – we’ll be in touch!

This is Evelyn admiring a sketch of her cottage!