This planet we exist upon is a scary place. Babies who disappear in the night. Men and women who have had their lives taken by another, with no regard for humanity. Children, who, as this is being written, are being abused; often by their own parents or by someone who is supposed to love and protect them. Elders who are being neglected, exploited and abandoned. Animals tossed aside or chained or beaten or starved to death.
Harsh words but profound truth. To our dismay, we get tangled in the darkness.
I have had the privilege of meeting many wondrous people in the course of my lifetime and they have graciously shared their own life lessons with me. One such memorable acquaintance was Abbie, a 96-year-old widow who lived alone in an apartment in Presque Isle. It was just about this time of year, mid-July, when I found myself in her kitchen watching her wash and chop freshly grown lettuce and green onion tops. Just outside of her back door, Abbie had created a small vegetable garden in a space no more than 25 square feet. This tiny garden was her refuge and her lifeline.
She stood before me, a straw hat covering her head. Tumbling from under that hat, a single ribbon of silver hair danced upon the roundness of her left shoulder. She explained to me that she was preparing lunch and she wanted me to join her. “Now, with a name like Ouellette, you must be familiar with the salad I am making! Fresh lettuce, green onion tops, a sprinkle of salt and sour cream. A favorite of the French.” We both laughed and I asked her what life was like for her at 96 years old.
“There is a secret to being this age,” she told me. “First of all, I believe in God and secondly, I believe in myself. I don’t entertain regret and I constantly remind myself that despite the atrocities of this world, there is decency and kindness surrounding us; it just doesn’t make the evening news.”
I finished my visit with Abbie and as we walked to the door, she reached up and hugged me tightly. “I hope you live as long as me and longer,” she said. I returned her hug and assured her I would see her again soon. It was not to be. In a matter of days after our visit, I received a phone call from Abbie’s niece, telling me that her beloved aunt had slipped away. Abbie spent her last moments on earth sitting near the sunny window that overlooked her cherished little garden, wearing her straw hat and gardening gloves.
We are constantly exposed to the tragedies of civilization. We are aware of the cruelties and the dismal acts that plague our everyday lives. But before we get drawn into this dark awareness, we must take a deep breath and remind ourselves there is powerful goodness in the universe and in honor of the Abbies of the world, this must be our focus.
Editor’s Note: Belinda Wilcox Ouellette lives Connor TWP with her husband Dale and their Goldendoodle Barney. They are currently working on building a home in Caribou. You may contact Belinda online at: dbwouellette@maine.rr.com.
