“College girl seeks summer nanny position.” I called Diana’s number and asked her if she’d like to be a nanny to a middle-aged woman, or perhaps an assistant, whatever she’d prefer to be called.
We connected instantly, and she was hired to do the things I couldn’t, with the understanding that she could always say no. She was tall, strong, and brilliant, a junior at Vassar, and as she worked, she discussed “matters of importance” with both Frank and me. She borrowed arms-full of books from each of our libraries. As a women’s studies major, she had landed in “ground central.”
She cleaned, brought me imaginative meals on a tray, ferried me to doctors’ appointments, picked up prescriptions from the pharmacy, emptied the freezer to take to the local food pantry, packed heirlooms, and as we worked, the conversations continued.
I couldn’t do much except give instructions, delegate, point, and teach an ongoing teleclass propped up in bed. About all Frank could do was walk about the house with his hands on his head muttering, “Maelstrom, maelstrom, maelstrom.”
All too soon, the moving van pulled into the driveway. Exhausted, overwhelmed, and in pain, I dived under the covers and told Frank I couldn’t deal with anything more at that point; he and Diana would have to take over.
Thank goodness for those now-visible hands.
May 16, 2008 No Comments