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Three words that meant something to me yesterday, and mean something to me always, are: thoughtfulness, patience, and caring.
My daughter and I have been working on a project at the house. Yesterday afternoon I worked a bit more than my body was willing to accept comfortably. When I left the house with my daughter, I was having muscle spasms under my right shoulder blade.
I didn't tell my daughter about the discomfort because we had planned to take a gentle walk around the grounds of a local garden. We'd been at this garden before, many times when my children were growing up, and more recently also. The gardens are part of the historic Phipps estate. Once a feature in Long Island's Gold Coast community (think: Great Gatsby), the mansion and its grounds were donated in 1959 to the public.
I tossed the strap of my purse across my shoulder and started to walk on the soft grass. The walk was fine, but the purse strap was aggravating the muscle spasms, so I swung the strap around the back of my neck instead.
This strap arrangement was better, but still the purse and strap were muscle antagonisms.
"Why don't you let me carry that, Mom?" my daughter asked.
I at first said, "No. It's fine."
I walked up the hill and across the veranda of the mansion. I made it half way down the grand stairway to the property's pond, when my back screamed for relief. I sat on a broad, concrete step and my daughter took my phone so she could capture the photos I wanted to get.
Ordinarily, I'd have my camera with a zoom lens, but I forgot that home so I was stuck with the cell phone.
When my daughter returned she insisted on taking the purse from me. I relented and we continued to the pond. There was a huge turtle she had seen there recently and she wanted to show me. She wanted to give me the opportunity to take a picture of this magnificent creature because I have become a photo hound of late.
No turtle, but the back wasn't getting any better so I decided we should head back to the car. On the return walk across the mansion's veranda, my daughter suggested I sit on one of the ornate concrete benches. Stubborn though I am, that seemed like a very, very good idea.
As I sat there, she pointed out the feet on the statue of the woman/lion/warrior, which was right in front of me. The front feet were paws, and the back feet were claws! So I took a few shots the feet. You can see these claws in the picture below.
And here is a picture of the front feet, the paws:
We made it back to the car fairly easily. It was all downhill on the way back, and, after all, my daughter was carrying the purse.
I have not explicitly used the three words--thoughtfulness, patience, and caring--in this essay yet. However, in my daughter's behavior I have described the true meaning of these terms. Can you see where they are expressed?
My daughter, throughout the garden walk, was thoughtful, caring and patient. I'm one of those people who does not accept gifts easily. Nor do I accept help. I'm not sure why that is true, but it means those who care have a hard time doing anything for me. They need to be very patient.
Later in the evening, a heating pad and rest helped my muscles to relax, at least enough so I could write this essay for 