Her hands recall the pleasure,
of holding the day to day petals,
of life’s simple pleasures.
Setting the table,
preparing the meal,
wiping her brow.
Her hand imagines the tenderness of her child’s skin,
the silk like velvet of youth.
She remembers burying her nose within the folds and smelling her perfume.
My childhood friend Shelley has A.L.S. A disease that robs her, day by day of her life. I have never heard her complain, never seen her shed a tear. She wears courage and grace, as if it were the most natural thing to put on. When your eyes meet hers, you forget that she is seriously ill. Shelley makes you feel like you are the center of the world, she crowns you with her sparkling eyes, and weaves you on adventures with her words.
I have a favor to ask of you. Can you send an email to my friend Shelley? A note of cheer. She cannot respond A.L.S. has taken her movements away.
Can you send her your link, or a site you enjoy, or photo, a video clip, …Shelley loves interior design, decorating, celebrating, crafts, family, gardening, flea markets, vintage anything…She loves life.
Photo: A 19th century large engraving of Madonna and child, that I found at the flea market, in the bottom of a box. There is something in the stillness of this giving, the tenderness of the hands, holding but not clutching…reaching out softly…aware of life’s moments as they come, without racing on to the next.
Shelley has taught me this…to live each moment as if it is my last.
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