Member-only story
Lucky Me
Thank heaven for little girls
Last weekend I hurt myself horribly by hefting a heavy compost bin.
Suddenly I could hardly do anything. The muscles in my lower back felt wrenched from the bone and it was all I could do to get inside the house.
Luckily I have an 11-year-old who can cook. Handy.
For three days she cooked and cleaned and lowered me up and down from the bed and the sunny spot on the couch. She braced her baby legs and took my weight. She swept up crumbs and peeled potatoes. She filled my hot water bottle and put socks on my chilly feet. She set her alarm so as to be up before me in case I needed to pee. Which at first, was into a jar.
How lucky am I? Such gratitude I felt for her devotion and service. Where would I have been without her?
And the feeling was mutual. “No wonder you’re so tired,” she said.
My girl got to know firsthand what needs to be done in a day, every day. Empty the rubbish bin, open the windows, close the windows, open the curtains, close the curtains. Peer into the pantry. Feed the cat. Water the garden. Crouch down, stand up.
And at the end of each day, she was tired, couldn’t wait for her bed but waited until she’d settled me in mine, then turned off…
