If I had to choose a creature to characterize my new friend, "V", it would definitely be a Hummingbird. Not because of its tiny size or delicate features (which isn't to say that "V" doesn't have delicate features, too!). And certainly not because of its incredible speed! "V" is ninety-five years young, and although she scoots around quite capably with her walker, I suspect her speedy days are long since behind her (although she did tell me that she was still driving up until a year ago!)
No. The Hummingbird connection comes from other, more distinctive qualities, such as gracefulness, caution, and modesty. These are attributes that are not often encountered in young people these days, at least not in my experience as a case manager and all-around "people" person.
Something about the way "V" carries herself, with a distinguished dignity that has been finely developed over ten decades, reminds me of that resourceful little bird. "M" had some of those qualities too, but in a much more noticeable, larger-than-life way, which is why she was my Great Snowy Egret!
I first met "V" about a month ago. The timing was amazing! I was contacted to interview for the position the same day I learned that "M" would not be remaining in The Woods. I've come to learn over my lifetime that everything that happens, both the good and the bad, does so for a particular reason. And even though I may not know exactly what that reason is right away, in time, I come to understand it very clearly, if I keep my eyes open.
"V"s entry into my life, however, couldn't have been a more clear-cut case of one door slowly, sadly shutting while another one happily, hurriedly opened. I mean literally. Within three days of interviewing for the position of full-time weekend caregiver, I had my overnight bag packed and was headed over the Mid-Hudson Bridge to the other side of the Hudson Valley in my little blue Honda Fit for my first stay with "V".
The drive is a beautiful one, with breathtaking views, and I always enjoyed meandering my way through the windy roads of the Catskill Mountain foothills. My scheduled weekend shift allows me the opportunity to see the sprawling area both at sunset (on the way to work on Friday evenings), and shortly after sunrise (on the way home on Sunday mornings). Words like spectacular and stunning do not even do the route its due justice!
"V" was very sweet during my first meeting with her, but also a bit shy. She seemed to defer to the opinions and questions of her daughter-in-law, son, and daytime caregiver, all of whom were doing the interviewing. I could imagine how uncomfortable she must have felt, having a series of strangers coming into her long-time home, where she had quietly lived alone since her husband had passed. I tried to put myself in her shoes, which she had jokingly pointed to, calling them her "clodhoppers." She also pointed to her walker, saying, "I don't get around as much as I used to, so I just stay in my socks around the house." I looked around and noticed that no one else was wearing shoes either, and quickly deduced that the proper protocol for the tidy, well-kept dwelling was to go shoeless. I looked down at my interview "clodhoppers" and felt my only qualm of the interview. Strike one!
There were no more missed balls during this meeting, and the job was thankfully offered to me later that evening. I was thrilled. "V" seemed like a lovely woman, and I very much looked forward to getting to know more about her in whatever timeframe she was willing to let me do so. And although I was in the midst of grieving the loss of my relationship with "M", I was nonetheless excited for this new opportunity to become a meaningful part of someone else's life.
I arrived for my first shift about half an hour early, and was given a very thorough run-down of what my caregiving duties would entail by "V"s daytime companion, "R". Not only did she walk me through the entire three story residence ("V" only used the main floor), but she wrote everything out on an extremely detailed list. Great! No stones left unturned! At least I knew what I was getting into rather than being surprised later on with a task that I wasn't so sure I could handle.
Like my very first task, for example, which would be to prepare a healthy dinner for "V" who, I was informed, very much enjoys eating. "Yikes!" I thought. We may share an Italian heritage, but I had clearly missed the boat when it came to cooking. "V" was nothing like my non-cooking cohort, "M", who delighted in our mutual inability to prepare meals. Luckily, my fears subsided when I realized that I was always able to prepare healthy meals for "M" in spite of my clumsiness in the kitchen, and even though I wasn't Julia Child, I could get by well enough. I just needed a disinterested, non-judgmental audience like "M", and I would be fine.
Or so I thought. Over our first meal together, "V" and I began chatting, and one of my brilliant ice-breaker questions was, "What would you have studied if you'd been able to remain in college?" In talking about her background, "V" had already revealed that she had to leave school because of money and the war, which wasn't uncommon for women at that time. Her answer almost knocked me out of my chair! "Cooking," she said with a slight smile. Strike two! "M" had no idea how to cook, so it didn't matter what I made. But this woman had way more than an inkling. So much for a disinterested, nonjudgmental audience!
But "V" helped me feel at ease right away, and my fears subsided. I knew everything would be just fine between us during that first dinner. As she carefully, and ever so neatly, ate her food, "V" made no judgmental comments or criticisms. "This is very good," she said softly. And everything about her body language and expression indicated nothing to the contrary. I quickly learned that for "V", it wasn't what she was eating that mattered the most. The real importance of any meal is to have someone to share it with, someone to chat with, casually and comfortably. And "V", much to my delight, was extremely easy to converse with. She was polite, soft-spoken, and considerate, and meals together were soon to become my favorite time with her.
The view from her dining room helped to make the atmosphere quite comfortable. The cozy, maple colored furnishings were brightened by the sunlight shining through a large sliding glass door which opened up onto the back porch. This, in turn, unveiled a scene distinguished by gloriously glowing green fields and deep, lush woods. In the distance, some of the mountains could even be seen. It was as serene a setting as I've ever experienced, and a perfect way to enjoy a meal.
Almost dead center in the middle of the back porch hung a red plastic hummingbird feeder. There were also a few chairs, an un-opened umbrella, and three potted plants, but the feeder looked like the centerpiece for it all. "V" told me that her daytime caregiver had just purchased when the two of them went on an outing to a fancy home supply store. "I can't believe all the things they carry there," "V" told me in sheer amazement. "If I was younger and had my checkbook with me," she confided, here tone almost one of embarrassment, "I'd be in big trouble!"
I smiled and told her, "Me, too! Except that I am younger and do have my checkbook with me," adding that I got into my own big trouble during the springtime, when all the plants were first put on display after a long, bitterly cold winter. "V" laughed as I shared with her some of my over-buying antics, and we agreed that maybe next Spring, we could go to the nursery section together.
Then she pointed to the hummingbird feeder. "We just got that today!" she said happily, a sparkle in her eye. "I do hope the they come," "V" continued, a sense of longing in her voice. "They are such beautiful little birds!" We discussed their delicate features, and their incredible speed, with "V" having no idea that my first impression of her had been that of a hummingbird.
We ate our meal slowly, chatting throughout, both of our heads continuously turning towards the sliding glass doors to see if our little friend had arrived. By dessert, I could see that "V" was disappointed by the hummingbird's lack of appearance, and I tried to distract her with some more tales of my amusing antics. It worked somewhat, but her heart was set on attracting the little creature to her home.
It was beginning to grow dark, and I began to clear the table (slowly, of course) while "V" continued watch outside. Suddenly, she exclaimed in a barely audible voice, "There he is!" (And yes. An exclamation can indeed be uttered in a barely audible tone, and I had just heard it!). Sure enough, a lone hummingbird was perched on the feeder, cautiously looking around between each drink, perhaps trying to protect his new found treasure.
"V" was quite satisfied as we left the dining room that first evening to relax in the living area with some books. And I felt very at peace. Any doubts I had about working with and getting to know "V" were alleviated by the fluttering flight of that tiny little creature. I was exactly where I was meant to be, and "V" was meant to be a new and very special friend.
The drive is a beautiful one, with breathtaking views, and I always enjoyed meandering my way through the windy roads of the Catskill Mountain foothills. My scheduled weekend shift allows me the opportunity to see the sprawling area both at sunset (on the way to work on Friday evenings), and shortly after sunrise (on the way home on Sunday mornings). Words like spectacular and stunning do not even do the route its due justice!
"V" was very sweet during my first meeting with her, but also a bit shy. She seemed to defer to the opinions and questions of her daughter-in-law, son, and daytime caregiver, all of whom were doing the interviewing. I could imagine how uncomfortable she must have felt, having a series of strangers coming into her long-time home, where she had quietly lived alone since her husband had passed. I tried to put myself in her shoes, which she had jokingly pointed to, calling them her "clodhoppers." She also pointed to her walker, saying, "I don't get around as much as I used to, so I just stay in my socks around the house." I looked around and noticed that no one else was wearing shoes either, and quickly deduced that the proper protocol for the tidy, well-kept dwelling was to go shoeless. I looked down at my interview "clodhoppers" and felt my only qualm of the interview. Strike one!
There were no more missed balls during this meeting, and the job was thankfully offered to me later that evening. I was thrilled. "V" seemed like a lovely woman, and I very much looked forward to getting to know more about her in whatever timeframe she was willing to let me do so. And although I was in the midst of grieving the loss of my relationship with "M", I was nonetheless excited for this new opportunity to become a meaningful part of someone else's life.
I arrived for my first shift about half an hour early, and was given a very thorough run-down of what my caregiving duties would entail by "V"s daytime companion, "R". Not only did she walk me through the entire three story residence ("V" only used the main floor), but she wrote everything out on an extremely detailed list. Great! No stones left unturned! At least I knew what I was getting into rather than being surprised later on with a task that I wasn't so sure I could handle.
Like my very first task, for example, which would be to prepare a healthy dinner for "V" who, I was informed, very much enjoys eating. "Yikes!" I thought. We may share an Italian heritage, but I had clearly missed the boat when it came to cooking. "V" was nothing like my non-cooking cohort, "M", who delighted in our mutual inability to prepare meals. Luckily, my fears subsided when I realized that I was always able to prepare healthy meals for "M" in spite of my clumsiness in the kitchen, and even though I wasn't Julia Child, I could get by well enough. I just needed a disinterested, non-judgmental audience like "M", and I would be fine.
Or so I thought. Over our first meal together, "V" and I began chatting, and one of my brilliant ice-breaker questions was, "What would you have studied if you'd been able to remain in college?" In talking about her background, "V" had already revealed that she had to leave school because of money and the war, which wasn't uncommon for women at that time. Her answer almost knocked me out of my chair! "Cooking," she said with a slight smile. Strike two! "M" had no idea how to cook, so it didn't matter what I made. But this woman had way more than an inkling. So much for a disinterested, nonjudgmental audience!
But "V" helped me feel at ease right away, and my fears subsided. I knew everything would be just fine between us during that first dinner. As she carefully, and ever so neatly, ate her food, "V" made no judgmental comments or criticisms. "This is very good," she said softly. And everything about her body language and expression indicated nothing to the contrary. I quickly learned that for "V", it wasn't what she was eating that mattered the most. The real importance of any meal is to have someone to share it with, someone to chat with, casually and comfortably. And "V", much to my delight, was extremely easy to converse with. She was polite, soft-spoken, and considerate, and meals together were soon to become my favorite time with her.
The view from her dining room helped to make the atmosphere quite comfortable. The cozy, maple colored furnishings were brightened by the sunlight shining through a large sliding glass door which opened up onto the back porch. This, in turn, unveiled a scene distinguished by gloriously glowing green fields and deep, lush woods. In the distance, some of the mountains could even be seen. It was as serene a setting as I've ever experienced, and a perfect way to enjoy a meal.
Almost dead center in the middle of the back porch hung a red plastic hummingbird feeder. There were also a few chairs, an un-opened umbrella, and three potted plants, but the feeder looked like the centerpiece for it all. "V" told me that her daytime caregiver had just purchased when the two of them went on an outing to a fancy home supply store. "I can't believe all the things they carry there," "V" told me in sheer amazement. "If I was younger and had my checkbook with me," she confided, here tone almost one of embarrassment, "I'd be in big trouble!"
I smiled and told her, "Me, too! Except that I am younger and do have my checkbook with me," adding that I got into my own big trouble during the springtime, when all the plants were first put on display after a long, bitterly cold winter. "V" laughed as I shared with her some of my over-buying antics, and we agreed that maybe next Spring, we could go to the nursery section together.
Then she pointed to the hummingbird feeder. "We just got that today!" she said happily, a sparkle in her eye. "I do hope the they come," "V" continued, a sense of longing in her voice. "They are such beautiful little birds!" We discussed their delicate features, and their incredible speed, with "V" having no idea that my first impression of her had been that of a hummingbird.
We ate our meal slowly, chatting throughout, both of our heads continuously turning towards the sliding glass doors to see if our little friend had arrived. By dessert, I could see that "V" was disappointed by the hummingbird's lack of appearance, and I tried to distract her with some more tales of my amusing antics. It worked somewhat, but her heart was set on attracting the little creature to her home.
It was beginning to grow dark, and I began to clear the table (slowly, of course) while "V" continued watch outside. Suddenly, she exclaimed in a barely audible voice, "There he is!" (And yes. An exclamation can indeed be uttered in a barely audible tone, and I had just heard it!). Sure enough, a lone hummingbird was perched on the feeder, cautiously looking around between each drink, perhaps trying to protect his new found treasure.
"V" was quite satisfied as we left the dining room that first evening to relax in the living area with some books. And I felt very at peace. Any doubts I had about working with and getting to know "V" were alleviated by the fluttering flight of that tiny little creature. I was exactly where I was meant to be, and "V" was meant to be a new and very special friend.
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