Remembering Mary During COVID 19 Times

I remember the first time we laid eyes on her. At 76, she still had the spunk of someone twenty years younger. A beautiful smile, flexible limbs, and an active lifestyle motivated her. Standing before her, cuddling our six month old, premature infant daughter, my emotions felt scrambled. The pounding of my heart was evident. However, from our first meeting somehow I knew this beautiful baby would be safe with her, always. Her name was Mary.

As she carefully examined our daughter, and nestled her snuggly in her arms, the wide- eyed expression revealed comfort. Our little one liked Mary too. The delighted squeals said it all. We were from different generations, but our bonding was instantaneous. Before long we were more than just parents, and a babysitter, we were becoming friends. Sharing talks, dinners, and life together. There was nothing we couldn't discuss. I looked forward to our daily conversations, never knowing which direction they would go. Over time I realized something magical was happening, we were becoming family.

We still giggle reminiscing about the times we asked where Mary wanted to eat dinner? All along we knew it would be the Mandarin, because she loved Chinese food more than anything. Our family didn't mind. It was just a joy to be together. We always attracted attention when we were out, but after a while we were oblivious to the looks. Yes, we could hear stirring in the next booth as you said "Come to Grandma Mary" while reaching for the baby. I am sure everyone wondered how we could be connected, but no one dared to ask.

I will never forget that hot, May afternoon when we had our most serious conversation. There we sat, huddled on the couch in your living room discussing your late husband. You shared with me how you had one day asked him a question that was weighing heavily on your mind.

“Can I love all children the same? “You exclaimed. He looked puzzled before answering. The response of "Yes, why should anything make a difference?" summed it up. From that day forward as you recounted the conversation, there was no looking back. Having never been blessed with a child of your own, all children received your love. Lucky children they were.

We had seven wonderful years together sharing potty training, the "Terrible Two's," Chicken Pox, birthday parties… What fun times. Each year brings about changes and growth, and in 1999 it meant your passing.

We were always one, overlooking all differences. It was only society that reminded us that we were African American, and you were Caucasian. It is amazing how so many things can change through the years, yet in many ways some things remain the same. Love can overpower much and send individuals down a wonderful path. A baby taught us all about this possibility, and made us family. The heart allows us to maintain cherished memories, nestled in our embrace, to keep close, untouched by society, and safe forever. As COVID 19 has introduced us all to quarantined life, new methods for living, have given us much time to reflect, I am thankful for this.