Most people become irritated at the
animated gym clip that pops up when Microsoft Word is opened. But I am not like most people. I kinda like the little guy. Those large animated eyes entertain me. The ever-so-slight movements keep my mind
actively searching for the following word or phrase just so that I can see what
he is going to do next. Right now, he
sits on a document smiling directly at me, occasionally glancing towards my document
while scratching the top of his little gym clip head. A little weird? I would agree. But somehow just knowing the small animated
paper clip is there makes me feel less alone at the moment.
I don’t mind being alone. Sometimes I relish the opportunity. Ms. Mary, a widow in a small town I lived in
some years ago spent her days alone.
Following the death of her husband, Mary rarely left her home. Mary visited the mailbox at the same time
each evening. 3:15 pm would not pass without the small socked feet of
the fair complected woman strolling slowly to and from her mailbox. Her expression was always the same,
emotionless. I never saw visitors to her
home. On occasion, a local church group would
make attempts to invite her to services.
She would accept their brochures with a nod of thanks before closing
herself in - and the church group out. The grocery delivery boy would set bags of
groceries on her porch swing, knock on the door and leave. Mary would appear moments later to retrieve
her goods. Mary was totally alone.
I heard years later that Mary died
on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, exactly 3:15
pm. She had a massive
coronary on her stroll to the mailbox. The small community took up a collection for
her burial. Mary died alone. She was 93 years old.
I often wonder how the computer age
would have affected Mary. Would she have
a Facebook profile? Would she have tweeted
her thoughts on Twitter or kept up with every tweet from her television
idols? Would Mary see social media as an
opportunity to connect with those of her past; or would she view its exploitable
disclosures as nonsense, thus continuing in seclusion?
What would Mary think of this presently
slumbering gym clip? Would its animated
antics provoke a smile? I like to think
so. I have often pondered Mary smiling
or laughing during her moments alone. I
would visualize a warm smile as she remembered her wedding day or prenuptial
courting rituals..followed by a sigh of contentment. Did Mary sing quietly to
herself of love and life? I hope
so.
Although a child at the time, I saw
Mary. So, I guess one might say that
Mary was never truly alone. Mary just
did not know that I saw her. I still see
Mary in my mind and feel her in my soul. Thus, Mary’s memory did not die with her. We are never truly alone and forgotten as
long as someone sees.
Someone, somewhere,
sees each of us and knows we are here.
Ms. Mary..I see you.
~
Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!
See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands...
See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands...
Isaiah 49:15-16
~
As
I close this entry the little gym clip will morph into an animated motorcycle
and drive off in search of another welcoming host, I suppose.
And with his “adieu”, I will smile.
And with his “adieu”, I will smile.
