Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Tenacious

It was another day where I barely sat down.

This morning I talked on the phone to my 85-year-old father-in-law who told me about his latest doctors appointment.  He's taking a blood thinner now and prepared himself for being told not to drink any alcohol by coming up with a reaction, making sure beforehand from the nurse that his doc has a sense of humor.

"So, see, what I did, was, as soon as he told me I can't have my Monday night margarita anymore, I threw my purse down as hard as I could and said, 'That's it! I'm outta here! Find me a new doctor!'"

It was a good joke.

This afternoon, my daughter's friend came over to get her hair done.  It required timely orchestration with school schedules and the braider's schedule.  Part of my duty was to prep the hair for braids.  Her friend sat in the bath as I sectioned the hair off, deep conditioned from root to tip, and combed it out.  When my daughter saw me struggling to get the old braids out in the front, she stripped to her underwear and climbed in the bath to lend a hand.  She worked with such focus, leaning over her friend, getting the matted knots out the best she could.  The word "tenacious" came to my mind as I watched her; I always see little glimpses of the small girl she must have been at age three or four, sweeping the bottle-cap floors of where she lived or grinding freshly roasted coffee beans by hand with a mortar and pestle.  There is a drive way down deep in her to contribute, to be useful, to be a helper.  She also will look up from her task to laugh loudly if someone makes a fart joke.  She is remarkable.


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