PART OF THE REST OF US

Juliette Latva

7th Grade • Rogers Park Montessori

Amelia reached into her wardrobe and carefully selected a blouse. There were only three so it wasn't a difficult choice, but still, she paused, her frail and lined hands stopping to feel each one. Today she would wear the ivory blouse with the Peter Pan collar and the dainty rose buttons. When Peggy came to bring her breakfast that morning, she would ask her for help with the buttons that always gave her so much trouble.

Today was a special day. The kind of day that called for a special blouse. The local Montessori school was sending students as “friendship ambassadors,” to the memory care home where she lived. Amelia eagerly looked forward to these visits along with the concerts from the Suzuki students and other local youth orchestras that would occasionally come to play music for them. In the past, she had enjoyed bingo, but had quit after she found the bingo caller too difficult to follow. But the student visits were different. Even when she found the present difficult to navigate, the past was always available to her. Having a willing audience to share that past with her was a comfort.

The gentle knock at the door startled Amelia and for a moment she was confused where the noise had come from.

“Good morning Miss Amelia,” Peggy called entering her room. “Beautiful day, sun is shining, birds are chirping. Let’s get these blinds open so we can get some light in here,” Peggy said opening the shutters in one swift movement. “You know I love

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that blouse on you. Your calendar says you have a visitor coming today. Are you excited?”

“Uh...yes.” Amelia replied.

“Good. I brought you some coffee and oatmeal. Let’s get you fed and ready for the day.” Peggy said, taking the blouse from Amelia’s hands.

“Peggy, won’t you have some coffee with me?” Amelia asked.

“Amelia, if I have any more coffee this morning I’m going to be bouncing off the walls. I can sit and talk to you while you eat your breakfast though.”

“That sounds nice.” Amelia said reaching for her coffee, her hands shaking.

“Careful, it’s hot. I don’t want you to spill it” Peggy said.

After Amelia got ready for the day, Peggy walked her out to the sitting room where she would sit with her guest. Peggy waited until she heard the ding of the elevator, announcing that the students had arrived to go and tend to her next patient. Although Amelia had had a number of visits in her time at the memory home, everytime a new group of guests came, she became nervous as if it were the first time she’d had any visitors.

The nerves came because the excitement she felt at the prospect of connecting with someone but never met her ability to access her thoughts in a clear way. She could feel the eyes glaze over as she rambled desperately wanting to corral her thoughts into a cohesive narrative. She felt their disappointment and their confusion and she always wished she could be more straightforward. But there was hope too. Hope that she would find the connection she longed for.

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The social outreach coordinator, Jenny, approached Amelia with a tall, long-haired girl and said, “Amelia I want you to meet Sarah. Sarah is 13 and is an 8th grade Friendship Ambassador from the Montessori school. Sarah would you like to tell Amelia anything about yourself?”

“Um...sure.” Sarah said, clearing her throat. “Well, I play lacrosse and the piano and I enjoy sewing.” She added.

“Wow!” Jenny said, trying to break the silence. “Amelia, may I tell Sarah a little bit about you?” Amelia nodded her consent.

“Amelia is 89 years old. She was born in Poland and lived through WWII. Her family escaped the Nazis and immigrated to the U.S. when she was just 9 years old”

“My family is from Poland. I’ve never actually been there though.” Sarah replied. Shyly she added “Dzień dobry! My grandmother would always greet me that way”

Amelia smiled in recognition. She looked at Sarah’s almondgreen eyes, her broad face with the high cheekbones and saw her little sister, Lena.

“Lena your hair is so beautiful. It’s grown back since Papa cut it.”

Sarah paused and looked into Amelia’s eyes searching for some context as to who Lena was. She knew from her experience with her own great aunt, who would occasionally confuse family members with each other or forget they existed at all, that Amelia was going through something similar. She glanced over and saw that the conversation between her fellow classmate and another patient was at a standstill. “Yes I thought it would never grow back. Have you talked to Papa recently?”

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Amelia ignored that question but answered with “Do you remember how much you cried when he cut our hair? He said that the chickens were too dirty to have us tending to them with long hair. I didn’t care because I loved the chickens so much, but you told Papa the kids would make fun of you.”

“Yes, I remember. I felt so embarrassed.”

Amelia nodded in recognition. “And Papa only made things worse when he insisted that we wear those silly green hats that mother had knit for us so we wouldn’t catch a cold.”

Sarah laughed and said, “Yes, not only were they an eyesore, but they were itchy too.”

Amelia paused for a long moment. “I’m glad you forgave him Lena, he was a good man and life was so hard for us all then.” Amelia’s eyes filled with tears and then she added “We were the lucky ones.”

Seeing Amelia cry, Sarah also found herself tearing up and said, “You are right Amelia, we were the lucky ones.”

Amelia suddenly felt tired. Seeing Lena had been an unexpected surprise that had filled her with both happiness and sadness as the memories of her youth returned to her. She bent her head over the chair and focused her gaze on a snag in the carpet.

Amelia’s thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Jenny who said, “I hope you two have had a nice visit. I’m afraid it’s time for Miss Amelia to return to her room.”

“We had a lovely time,” Sarah said standing up to leave. She was suddenly struck that she didn’t know if she should just say goodbye or hug Amelia. There was a vacant look to Amelia's

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face so she just decided to say goodbye, but she walked away wishing that she had given her a hug.

When I stepped into the elevator, I had two things on my mind: the smell of the memory care facility and Amelia. It smelled of disinfectant, moth balls and some sort of indistinguishable food smell that made my stomach churn. It was the kind of smell that you knew you might be smelling for days, getting unexpected whiffs without warning.

Then there was Amelia. I had a feeling that unlike the smell that would disappear in a matter of days, my visit with her would last much longer. I’d gone into the meeting feeling somewhat matter of fact about it. Our school required us to fulfill three service projects each semester. I was checking the box with the added bonus that I got to skip my Algebra quiz which I was very understudied for. I felt about it the way I feel when I babysit my next door neighbor: happy enough to do it but really just in it for the money.

My visit with Amelia had not gone as expected. I looked over at my classmate, Margot, who seemed to be unable to connect with her patient. Always industrious, Margot suggested they draw a picture instead of talking. Margot tried to help her draw however Josie (I think it was) was unable to hold her pencil. My plan had been to exchange pleasantries with Amelia, ask her about her family, what her favorite foods are and does she have a favorite sports team. I was taken off guard when she called me Lena with a familiarity that should not have existed between us.

My first instinct was to correct her and tell her that I was

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Sarah, but then I looked into her eyes. Eyes that, despite years of battering, tears shed and observations made were strangely like my own. The gray that turned to green in certain lights, the almond shape (minus the red-rimmed lids) were so much like those that I greet everyday in the mirror. When she called me Lena those same eyes, which had minutes before been so dull and lifeless, now had shone with a new energy. It seemed it would have been cruel to not go along with her story.

My English teacher, Mr. Roberts, requires us to write a reflective essay about one of our service projects. Tonight I will write about Amelia and as much as I know about her life. How she emigrated from Poland at a young age and escaped the Nazis, how she is dainty with delicate features and trembling hands, how her eyes are green, how the buttons on her blouse were in the shape of roses, how there is a dignity to her and how it's obvious that her caretakers love and respect her. But most of all how she loved her sister, loved her chickens, loved her father and made me see that like her, I am one of the lucky ones.

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