Seven

On day seven of a project where I am working to find my voice, I stop to visit a woman up the street who is sitting on her porch. It is a warm sunny day and I am out with the dog. I haven't haven't seen her in a while, so I wave and walk up the short driveway to see how say hello. I notice a cane next to her chair.
"Hey! I say. "How are you?" As I reach the bottom step of her porch...my heart jumps.
Immediately, I know something is different. I can see it in her face that although she looks the same as she always has, she is struggling. A stroke. She had a stroke. And she works to get the words out. "Stroke," she manages after a few seconds of stuttering.
"Oh, no. I am so sorry. I didn't know," I say.

"Are you doing OK?" I ask. My mind is rushing with the thoughts of...so, do I stay and ask questions of a woman who is obviously struggling to get a few words out or do I move along and let her relax in the sun....not having to fight to answer my cheery questions.
She smiles slowly yet sweetly.

"Was it recently?" I ask.

She fights for the word. The answer to my question is there...she is just having trouble getting it to her tongue. "September," she gets out...quietly. Each word is a fight but she just grips the arm of her chair and works it out.

She wasn't alone when it happened. (Thank God.) She knew exactly what it was right as it started. She held up three fingers when I asked how long she was in the hospital. "3 days. That is amazing." I say.

"Weeks" she says....again slowly but with a quiet determination.

Wow. Three weeks. And it happened five months ago. And, I just find out today?
(My inner mean voice says to me, "Nice neighbor, you dummy." I catch it and try without judgement, to just notice that it popped up.)

"You look good. Do you feel good?"

Another sweet smile and slight nod of her head.

During this whole exchange, the two giant mean poodles that live next door to her are wildly barking non-stop while on their back legs trying to get over the fence. Not kidding. Two huge dogs barking and barking and barking. Right next door to a woman who is recovering from stroke. They bark at anything that moves and have for as long I can remember.

"God, how do you stand that?" I ask, throwing my thumb in their direction and rolling my eyes. "It is awful."

She nods and rolls her eyes in agreement.

She is working hard to get out a word. I am working to not try to guess...knowing that although it may feel to me like that is being helpful...it is the worst possible thing to do to someone who is trying to tell you something. Just let them say it. I am so quick to want to fill the silence, give you my guess, make everything better. I suck at just shutting up. So... in my practice of slowing down and just staying....I waited. It wasn't very long....seconds....but it seems longer when you watch someone struggling.

She lifts her hand slowly and makes the gesture we all know that symbolizes a gun...index finger out and thumb up? "Squirt gun", she manages to say while smiling. Her eyes are dancing. She is in there. The same sweet woman with a great sense of humor. And then...she laughs!!!! It makes me laugh out loud, too.


In different ways, we are both finding our voice. (I am not at all saying we are experiencing the the same thing. She suffered a very serious stroke. I am very grateful to be healthy and know not to take one day for granted.) Here we are, neighbors for years...both working on being patient with ourselves. And, thankfully, keeping our sense of humor as we do it.

I will visit her again in the forty days...and beyond...and we can help each other to share. And speak. And most importantly...listen.