Ponies

A few years ago while visiting in California my husband, daughter and I invited my brother Bill and his beloved Jean to join us for lunch at a restaurant on the Santa Monica Pier. They were excited about joining us. The memory of that afternoon still makes me smile.

My big brother is short, only about five feet tall. Jean is smaller. Neither of them are very healthy. They are an adorable little old couple who hold hands when they walk. To say that Jean walks slowly would be a gross understatement. It is difficult for the rest us of to move at such a slow shuffle. That afternoon we parked in the closest spot to the pier so we would have only a few steps to reach our destination. It took about fifteen minutes to cross the short distance. We finally reached the pier and there before us was a beautiful antique carousel going around and around to the carnival music. I love carousels and I wanted to ride this one. Jean's eyes lit up when she saw it and she wanted to ride too. It was wonderful. We had assumed that Bill and Jean would sit in one of the swan benches that were available, but no, that would not do. Jean wanted to ride one of the ponies. Of course Bill wanted Jean to do whatever she wanted. Jean slowly shuffled over to her chosen pony. There was no way she could get up without help. Bill, Dennis and Ann all pushed and shoved until she was safely mounted. Then Bill with slightly less difficulty mounted the pony next to hers and we all found a ride for ourselves. Jean laughed and laughed as we whirled around with the music in our ears and the salt air blowing in our faces.

The next day we were all together with my other brother Joe and his wife Judy. I overheard Jean telling Judy about the wonderful time we had had the day before.”It was wonderful,” Jean said, “We all rode the ponies on the beach.”

This week Jean is being to a long-term acute care facility. It is a terrible place where they care for people with horrible medical conditions. The rooms are crowded and small. There is only a small chair by her bed where Bill can sit. There is little privacy. There is little hope and less joy.

I am grateful that we do have sweet memories to sustain us.