The Kingdom By The Sea

My name is not Annabel Lee, but I do live in a Kingdom by the Sea.  Still when the voices are too loud, and the wind is howling, I need to be reminded. That usually happens on the third Tuesday of the month when “Miss” Jackie picks me up, provides dinner, and we drive to visit the young ladies of Madonna Heights.  “Miss” Eleanor has already arrived from New Jersey as we pull in this month.  She waits outside to help Jackie unload the various and sundry tote bags that will provide the evening’s home economics lesson along with provisions for a fun-filled craft session afterwards.

Eleanor’s tote bag is always heavy too, laden with love, charisma, understanding and an innate ability to relate to the young residents of Madonna Heights.  They erupt with glee when they hear us approach.  My bags are full also, but with sumptuous goodies provided by “Miss” Mary, whom the ladies have not yet met.  Still my friend Mary’s reputation is sterling based on the homemade buttery scones, delectable muffins and pumpkin and banana  reads that she sends each month. “What did “Miss” Mary send this month?” I hear as we wend our way up the staircase.

This month it was Pumpkin Bread, Irish Soda Bread and of course, the scones, worth their weight in gold.  Jackie has brought all the ingredients for making a Berry Soup along with two dozen ceramic owls to be decorated and used as piggy banks.  Eleanor is already involved in deep conversation with two of the young ladies who are new to the facility.  She has soon learned one hopes to be a cosmetician, and before many minutes pass, both girls will claim her as a friend and adviser, always interested in their goals and dreams.

One thing differs, month by month, the faces.  Some remain a bit longer; others disappear quickly.  We have learned not to ask why or where, and they do not tell.  Each month, however, brings a fresh new face, eager to try a new recipe, enjoy a new craft, and always glad to taste “Miss” Mary’s baking. This month was no different.  One familiar face was missing, and we wondered and hoped she had left for a beautiful adventure.  But we will never know.  Within minutes the void was filled by another bright young woman, who has promised to let me read her book of original poetry next month.  I will look forward to that and feel humbled that she will share her inner vision with me.

On this foggy April evening all of the young ladies wore small tags, individually decorated, around their necks.  When we inquired, we were told they were a list of “coping skills.”  Each resident had designed and listed her own individual choices.  We were invited to read them and it was an illuminating experience.  Music, blue skies, rainbows, sun, meditation were on several.  None mentioned money or fame or popularity.  Love and family were recorded on several.  I wondered about so many things as I read each one.

Our trip home is usually a quiet one.  The tote bags are seemingly empty, but not really because they are filled with the gifts we are given each third Tuesday of the month. Love, gratitude, joy rank at the top, but also for me, this particular Tuesday, a reminder that I do live in a Kingdom by the Sea.  And I am grateful it is close to Madonna Heights.