A SPOON AND A FLUTE

A SPOON AND A FLUTE

By: Darrelyn L. Tutt

The rooms boasts a gathering of about 50 individuals plus workers mingling freely in between.
Jonna is pointed out as the woman wearing a pink and white striped shirt seated in a wheelchair,  a fairly large framed gal with a decided "left" slant in posture.
Her face is lovely and her skin is appealing;
 there's a cleanness and beauty about it that gives me the want to touch it and trace it.
Large blue eyes look curiously at me.
I pull up a chair and sit down.
Jonna is engaged in the middle of supper; hands are scooping potatoes and chocolate pudding simultaneously into her hungry mouth.
I introduce myself and begin to share interesting tidbits about my day and life between her mouthfuls.
She's responsive without speaking which, I've been told, is her "normal".
 But I've not one doubt, my friend, that Jonna is listening and following my conversation attentively.
I can just feel it.
Speculating that a stroke or two has been Jonna's "lot" and with a knowledge of forgetfulness being its matching counterpart, I pick up a spoon and take an imaginary bite with it and then place it in her hand. I'm not at all surprised to watch her memory return.
Back and forth we repeat the process.
A beautiful smile is my reward.
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A piano is situated near Jonna's dining table.
 I point to it and ask if she would like me to play. She gives me a very decided and emphatic nod of the head.
My squeaky chair is pushed back and I make my way to the piano, but only to discover that it requires some little know how. Even with the help of young "technicians" surrounding me, we can't figure out how to make the right connections and, after ten minutes call it quits.
Bugger and blast ... I'm supremely disappointed.
 The invitation to return and play is applied.
I apologize to my waiting and watching audience now composed of more than "one" and return to my seat.
Jonna has a "smiling" look and speaks a word to me:
"Flute."
I'm absolutely delighted by this wondrous discovery made through a single word.
My friend has a love of flute and evidently played in her earlier days.
 Her eyes display life and empowerment in the suggestion.
With immediacy the thought is cemented in my brain to locate a flutophone for our next visit.
And I feel so ... gratified.
Compassion and love are empowering and rejuvenating acts.
Beautiful. Life-giving. Intimate.
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I read a short devotional, hold my friend's chocolate hand, and we pray together.
I smudge her forehead with a lilac colored kiss and hug her sideways, and before I leave I hear two beautiful words:
"Thank you."
Maybe I'm reading too much into it but I don't think so:
I think Jonna was fully engaged with me the entire time because I was fully engaged with her the entire time.
And life is beautiful and God is good.
Sometimes all we need is a spoon and a flute.
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