One of the most precious gifts I’ve ever received
Disclaimer: My current day job is in the kitchen of a rest home. HIPPA laws (protecting a patient’s right to privacy) prevail there, so the residents described in this story have been fictionalized.
However, I really did make a couple of dolls for a beloved resident, and I’ve described my reaction to the experience as I felt it.
As I sorted through the menu cards this morning, I recognized the name of the man I had met in the hallway yesterday — Homer Lee. I happened to be pushing a cartload of dirty plates toward the dish room when he was settling into Thelma’s old room, and I paused to nod a hello. I was surprised when the man’s entire face lit up at the sight of me, and he reached out to greet me as he might a favorite grandchild at the annual family reunion. He asked my name and how long I had worked there. Then, eyes carefully scanning his new living quarters, he explained with surprising clarity, “This darn body just doesn’t work as well as it used to.” Smiling, I assured him that mine didn’t either, and we were glad to have him here with us.
As I went on my way, I felt warmed somehow. This was a very nice man, with a loving personality that I wish my own father had possessed. I looked forward to making his acquaintance. And I must confess it was refreshing to see that he…
