The Price You Pay for The World's Best Peach Cobbler

All is not as it seems......

This is my grandmother, Ima Lee. You probably see an old woman. She is, she's a beautiful 92.

It was a rough day for her, she had just returned from the hospital after breaking her hip so she's a tad drugged here, but that's not the point. Ya see, all is not as it seems. What is here is the most gentle woman I have ever known. She taught my mom how to love. I smell the worlds best peach cobbler in her presence. I feel the softness of her hand on my head when she was about to tell me something that needed immediate attention like "would you like another cookie?" or "would you like some ice cream with that hot peach cobbler?"I hear angels in her voice when she read me a story. I feel the warmth of her in the binding of the book that she gives me when she is finished reading and is going to let me read the rest for myself.

There is a history lost in her head due to Alzheimer's that makes it's way out in the faintest of voice as she speaks to the family members that have passed on before her. She remembers me as my mother and I am enriched as I could not imagine filling my mothers shoes and she recognizes my attempts at love and care as coming from my mother. I become aware of my mothers presence in the room and realize my mother, now departed, lives on in me in my grandmother's eyes. Is she seeing her in me or is she seeing her in a way that I can't due to her illness? It doesn't matter. I am with her and this is the price I pay for the world's best peach cobbler.

She lives in a nursing home. Her condition is beyond any one human to be able to care for her. And she's a slinky! Able to leap hospital bed safety rails, which is how she broke her hip. Able to scoot out doors left unattended, which is how she got out of the nursing home with 4 of her house mates until the neighbors called to tell the nursing home that they had some escapees. They made it outside but didn't have a clue as to what to do next so they just were there, in the sun, digging the outside.

I always thought nursing homes were for the unloved until I got over myself and spent some time there with her. (she could not spend time with me as she kinda lives in another world) but there I was, watching her, caring for her and listening to the noise in what was now her home.

There is the man that counts and gets stuck on 28 28 28 28 28 28 28 28.....turns out, numbers were an important part in his life, he used to lay railroad track and they had to count to keep in unison, then he became an auctioneer. Numbers are close and dear to him, they paid for his family and his life...26 27 28 28 28 28....he hangs on to them like a lover.

There is the woman in her 50's that will sing for you if you take her out for a cigarette and she begins to belt out a tune...one sentence and she must drink her water and lubricate her voice, again she belts out a tune....one sentence and she must drink her water and lubricate her voice, and yet again, she belts out a tune of one sentence. Not a particularly good singer but she truly belts it out, she gives all she's got, every bit of it till she is drained and must fill her cup so she can give you more.

There is the attendant that made some tough choices in life and sees this place as her salvation, her hope, her way to care for her young son.

There are crudely made decorations hanging overhead, art work from the day's activities. There is the scent of home cooking coming from the kitchen and one of the wisest women stirring a pot of love that will be Ima Lee's meal. And it's magic food, it heals her wounds and her soul. This is her home. Even if I could be independently wealthy and take her home with me, this is my grandmothers home, where she feels normal, where she feels loved and accepted. In my world she would be different, there would be no attendant that she could save and give hope to. Here, in the sponge painted walls and noise of 30 TV's on different channels turned up too loud to drown out the others, my grandmother is home.

Home is where the heart is and her heart is here and I have been enlightened to her now family, even though I am inside, even though I am family, I am on the outside and a grateful guest and I hope I live to be 92 and put in a nursing home with someone that sings and someone that can count. All is not as it seems, sometimes it's far better, far more beautiful than you could think.