Box full of love...

A long, long time ago I used to do volunteer work grooming dogs and cats at the animal shelter in Memphis, Tennessee.
There was a woman who also volunteered there who took a shine to me. She hired me to come to her house and groom her two little dogs. Sometimes I brought my wee daughter with me. My daughter still remembers the "Ginger Bread Cookie Lady." We became friends. She had 30 or 40 years on me, a wicked sense of humor, and a penchant for wearing tee shirts with witty sayings. Her dogs were small, speckled and walked with a waddle. Her apartment was in a neighborhood that was starting to slide to the dangerous side. She used to walk those waddling dogs and when young punks asked, "What kind of dogs are they?" She'd quip, "Rottweilers." She always went unmolested.

She moved to Texas shortly before I moved to Maine and I lost contact with her. But I thought of her often. I thought of her love for her sons and her late husband. I thought of the stories she had told me during the many hours I groomed her dogs. I thought of how delighted she was when I would take her out to lunch at PF Chang's or have her to our home for supper. I remembered the laughter we had shared and I missed her.

She died recently. And today I received a box in the mail with some of her favorite dog books, a dog decorated sweater, the doggie designed blankets that used to cover her sofas, some stuffed toy dogs and few other things of importance to her. It was a box full of love, reaching across the country and across time. It was heavier than gold.

Marjory... I never forgot you. I am deeply touched that you never forgot me.