A story about my Nanny

And walking to school in the bitter cold

My Nanny is ninety years old.

Over the holidays, she was admitted to the hospital. I don’t know about you, but when a ninety year old is hospitalized while in a lot of pain, I’m typically unsure how they will leave.

My Nanny walked out with her head held high rather than being rolled out feet first, en route to the funeral home just down the road. We both agreed that this was the better of the two options.

While in hospital, she always had someone who would sit with her. There was a really nice nurse. This despite the fact that we’re in a pandemic. This despite there being a healthcare shortage. This despite restrictions due to the current pandemic.

When her mother was dying, someone was always with her as well. Someone from the village would always be there. Someone. It seems that the people down that way have caring in the blood.

Winters were more difficult back then she confided in me. Women did not wear pants. She wore a thin cotton dress, leather shoes and knee length ‘blue bloomers…