Violets for Ellie

Yesterday at the library I was using the seat of a chair as a dolly  to push a heavy box of books to the delivery bin and my mind flew back to childhood and our occasional visits to an "old peoples' home" - a term so scandalously un-pc these days!

My parents had a family friend, Ellie, whom we would visit from time to time at said institution above. In the spring we children would gather the first smattering of deep purple violets, put them in an old white pitcher and take them in to Ellie. The long brick building was fronted by a large lawn dotted with trees and double swings, swaying back and forth with elderly residents. As we entered and the door squeezed shut behind us, the breezy sunshine of the day was replaced by the sharp smell of medicine, disinfectant and floor polish.

Reaching the second floor Room 277, the door opened to our friend
Ellie, She was scarcely as tall as me, and chuckled quietly all the time and said, "my , my, my." I stretched to place the pitcher of violets on her dresser amid medicine bottles, dusty plastic flowers and framed pictures of babies. Ellie sat primly on her patchwork chair in the corner, while Mother fanned and fanned in the over-heated room. We children lined up on the edge of the bed, legs swinging in quiet boredom.

Finally we were granted permission to roam... and roam we did! We looked for our "favorite" people. There was Lizzie who was always needing to "fetch the cows" and must never be given scissors, Mother said. And Fannie whose chin seemed to be attached to her neck. And an unknown person who pushed a chair before her always. We always tried to peer surreptitiously and were faultlessly polite.

When at last the visit was done, we waited for the grand finale. Ellie, our sweet little friend, who could not bear to face the world full on, backed down the stairs! Carefully. When she reached the bottom, she turned around, still chuckling and said, "My, my, I haven't been down here since last fall."

To the our sun-shot world of running, jumping, climbing, swinging, playing endlessly, it was truly awesome - when the word still meant something!