Remembered
28 Dec 2010 Leave a Comment
in Remembrance
On Christmas Eve, the small voice on the other end of the phone said, “You may not remember me, but I’m A____ J____, and you used to be my nanny.”
Well, how could one forget such a wee person, who was the first girl I did nanny for–a long string of boys preceded her! She was the girl with the lovely golden ringlets, the one who liked to dance and prance in the dragonfly dress I bought her.
She seemed surprised that I remembered–that I remembered her older brother and younger sister, too. Surprised and happy. I think we all want to be remembered, and it’s strange to discover yourself in the position of being the one who remembers–rather than being, as I usually am, the one who wishes to be remembered.
Miss A____ J____ is eleven now, a young lady attending the very same junior high school I attended. That fact brought back another memory to me–of another young lady, who I used to live next to. I took this young girl to that school one day as part of a “see how the older kids live” experience. This young lady has now moved away, married. She tells me remembers this trip to the school fondly, remembers well the library and the music room.
It’s strange, to have been nanny to so many children and to see them now as young adults out in the world. A___’s brother is fourteen now–though worse yet is the first child I cared for. He is now twenty. How can that be? Does he remember me? Surely I remember him. If he were to call, that voice would no doubt startle.
In September of this year, I learned that a good friend of mine unexpectedly passed away last September and I was overcome with memories of him. Laughing, loving this crazy life no matter the handicaps he’d been dealt. I wrote to his parents, just a small card, to likely tell them what they already knew–that their son was a remarkable person. But, to tell them too, that he (and they) were well-remembered.
As we all wish to be.
