Meditations: A light reassurance

In my meditations, I reflect on moments during my dance journey, volunteering work in dementia care, work as a psychologist, and more.

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After months of staring at the closed guitar case in my room, I finally found the time and energy to bring the guitar to the shop for repairing. This type of crack happens when you land with the airplane in Spain and take the guitar out of it's case suddenly, the man said. Well, it was moved from one house in The Hague to another house in The Hague so it is nothing more than unfortunate. This guitar is quite special as it has no hole. Normally he would use that hole to repair it from the inside, he said. We were both staring for a minute at the guitar laying in the case on the floor , as if we were both imagining the impossible. Afraid it was beyond repair, he suddenly stood up and said to come back in one week. "I will try it with a longer piece, and if not I will just glue it from the front, it can be fixed." The bells above the door rang as I left the shop with his card in my hand. It was sunny and I felt a little more reassured that the guitar is in good hands. I walked back to the car and looked at my watch. 11.30 AM, almost lunch time at the nursing home.

Her lunch was already served, but it was untouched. As she stared into the abyss in fron of her, I took the nearest stool and sat next to her. "Chī miànbāo (Eat the bread)," I said to her with a soft smile. She turned her face and smiled brightly. She grabbed a piece and put it towards her mouth.

I watched the other residents, some waiting for their bread, some already eating theirs. Then I see the friend of her sitting at the other table. Her husband isn't here today. He is always here to accompany her, maybe he couldn't make it today. I watch her touch her bread lightly with her fingers, but never bring a piece to her mouth. She won't starve, I thought. When all these workers are done doing the tasks they are doing, they will notice her and will help her eat. So I sat on my stool and encouraged the Chinese lady to eat till she finished her plate. "You did very good, I am going to your friend now for a bit" I said softly.

Taking the stopl with me, I moved to the other table and put my hand on her arm. "How are you?'" I asked. She is known for moving very slowly. "Hey it's you," she said. I watched her lightly touch the pieces of bread with her fingertips. A nurse and I were looking at her struggle. I heard us both thinking "where is the husband today?". The nurse had to leave, "Maybe put it in her hand," she said as she left the room. I took a piece and put it softly in her hand. The lady looked at me confused. "What do I do with it?" she asks. I told her to eat it. She hesitated. "Won't they get angry at me?" she asked. The question caught me a little off guard. What made her say that? I smiled softly. "No one is gonna get angry at you," I said calmly. Reassured the lady smiled with her eyes and brought the piece to her mouth. Sooner than later, all the pieces had disappeared into her mouth and the plate was empty. I said goodbye to the residents and left.

Still life (Table with bread and fruit), 1975. Patrick Collins (1910-1994)