Reflections Of Lillian

It started to be just another Saturday; I was working in the housekeeping department for the summer. My responsibility was to clean each resident's room and the public areas of the new wing. I did not think this was going to be an exciting job. I thought I would be bored out of my mind. I was wrong. I learned a lot about myself that summer, and Lillian was my guide.

A long-time resident of the facility, she lived in room 103, bed one just beyond the living room and diagonally across from the new wing's nurses station. I never saw her out of bed. Each morning was the same; her bed was neatly made with the obligatory hospital corners and a two-inch white sheet folded over the bedspread. Lillian's hair was neatly draped in a ponytail over her left shoulder across the white sheet border. Her black hair looked rich and even darker against the white sheet. All you saw of Lillian was from the top of her shoulders. Her arms were always at her side under the bedspread. When I walked into her room each afternoon at about one o'clock, she would turn her head away from the window to greet me as if it was our first meeting.?

Lillian had the most penetrating blue eyes I have ever seen. She could look into your eyes, pull out your very essence, and know your character within seconds of meeting you. She either liked you, or she didn't. There was no in-between with Lillian. She had a radio on her bedside table to listen to the baseball game. Oh, how she loved those Red Sox! Lillian knew more about the team than Ken Coleman, the Red Sox announcer at the time. Baseball was one of the connections to Lillian that always worked.?

The other connection to the world as she observed it was through the windowpane. Lillian's view was dreadful, overlooking the lower and upper parking lots through a split rail fence, past the leaching field vents, the back of the Mobil gas station to the right, and the traffic as it drove by on Route 6. She could see the sky over the gas station and through the trees on the other side of the state highway. She knew more about the weather than most meteorologists. Lillian taught me that a high-pressure area develops when the leaves show their underside and a storm is on its way. She could tell it was a holiday weekend just by watching the traffic flow past her window.?

She spent most of her life looking through her reflection in the window at a busy world she had very little hope of participating in, at least physically. Lillian never left her room but was very aware of life revolving around her.?

We spent many hours talking about our dreams and worldly events. Especially what my plans for the future were and why I was in such a hurry to get there. I always wanted to be older and helping with the family business. Her advice to me was not to be in such a hurry and to enjoy my youth. Nature would get me to where I needed to be in her own good time. The best advice she gave me was to prepare, and someday my chance would come.?

Last week I was back at school shopping with my daughter. After being dragged to numerous teenage shops listening to comments, does this look good on me? Is this a good color, is this too tight or too short, and of course, does this make me look fat? I headed towards the exit. I caught my reflection in the shop window and heard Lillian whispering, prepare, and your chance will come. I looked through the reflection and said thank you. My daughter pulled my arm and asked, "Who are you talking to"? I responded, "It's a long story."?

On the way to the car, we decided to stop for ice cream at Brigham's to celebrate her new outfits and the closing of the Bank of Dad until the next shopping trip. As we sat on a bench, people watching, she said she was concerned about what she wanted to do with her life. I looked into her green eyes, put my arm on her shoulder, and passed on Lillian's advice; prepare, and your chance will come and bring a wealth of opportunities and options.