I was sitting in my friend's room yesterday afternoon, probably crocheting or reading my book, when I glanced out the window into the courtyard. At one of the outside tables sat an elderly couple, he in a wheelchair and she sitting next to him in a patio chair. With one hand she held his and with the other she stroked his arm. She looked into his face and smiled as she talked. Occasionally his mouth would move as though he was answering. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I understood a little bit of what was transpiring between them. We had sat together in the common area an hour or so earlier. She comes often to visit her husband, to hold his hand, to reminisce, and remind him of her love.
I am blessed at the dedication of those who come often to love on family members who may or may not acknowledge their presence.
Becoming my Mother
14 minutes ago