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Enchantment can be found in the most unlikely of settings.
I was reminded of that last weekend when I was visiting my mother-in-law at the facility where she’s been rehabbing since her health took a turn for the worse about a month ago. Though she’s recovering nicely for a 90-year-old, you can’t help but notice the hopelessness in many of the residents.
Most of the patients able to get out on their own do so by means of wheelchairs. You’ll see them padding through the hallways – using their feet for ambulation – often going nowhere but to a different location.
Some are content to sit for hours in the living area, the dining hall with the big-screen TV or outside on the large porch. A few will respond when you talk to them while others seem confused or are merely unresponsive.
I’ve noticed others at the facility – those visiting or assisting loved ones. I’m pretty sure that the ones of those I see the most often are the devoted ones. They’ll be there come hell or high water.
There’s one I’d seen on a regular basis, a middle-aged woman who I at first mistook for a staff member because, well, she seemed to be working.
This woman – her name is Ann – I’d see moving purposely through the hallways, sometimes speaking to staff members and other times pushing someone in a wheelchair. For all I knew, she made her living there. Except for the fact that she didn’t wear a nametag.
Last Saturday afternoon, I was there with my wife Ginny and her sister Janette. We were pushing their mother down the hall when one of the staff members began ushering everyone she saw into the front living area where there are sofas and chairs.
Residents, some with family members, began congregating as Ann stood next to a man in a wheelchair. When there was a semblance of order, an official-looking woman began reading from a text.
“We are gathered here to join William and Ann in marriage …”
Those assembled listened quietly as the minister read the wedding script. A couple of latecomers rolled in and parked their wheelchairs for the proceedings.
The staff member who had rounded up the group of witnesses furtively sneaked a long-stemmed plastic flower from a vase and put it in Ann’s right hand. Janette then left and came back with a bouquet from who-knows-where and likewise placed it in Ann‘s hand.
Later, Janette explained that you can’t have a wedding without a bouquet of flowers.
Meanwhile, the minister continued:
“Do you take Ann to have and to hold …?”
“Yes.”
Do you take William to have and to hold …?”
“I do.”
“By the powers vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
William turned his face up as Ann bent over to press her lips to his.
There was no “Wedding March,” just a chorus of congratulatory well wishes to the newlyweds. But it sounded like music to me.
For just a few moments, joy and excitement reigned as two lives were joined together in marital bliss before a hoary cloud of witnesses.
And, for just a little while, there was enchantment in the air.
Larry Penkava, who has written Now and Then since 1994, wishes Ann and William all the best.
