There are forms and levels of caregiving. Taking care of my sister, started out with now-and-then and has now progressed to once-a-week, sometimes twice, you’ll-be-here-won’t-you days of errands and lunches and carrying load-after-load of groceries up her narrow stairs and into her small apartment.
She’s always grateful.
Taking care of the doggies involves a whole different set of daily duties. Feeding, brushing, snuggles on the couch, cookies. Oh, yeah—Copious Cookies!
With animals, there’s not so much gratitude as there is symbiosis. The fur of our pets is magical—I give cookies in exchange for their keeping my blood pressure in check, smiles on my face. They are the gatekeepers to my good nature. For any menopausal, will-someone-please-turn-down-the-heat,woman, doggies and kitties are the best medicine ever.
Then there is My Dan—he doesn’t need much these days. Mornings on the golf course, luxurious and long afternoon naps. A hand offered. The best Homemade Soup in the world, right here in our kitchen (I should franchise my soup—really, it’s the best).
Then, there is me. I don’t yet know about me. Maybe we should each ponder about ourselves and what we need, or don’t need. Perhaps we might think about how we hold hands, and give and receive…and give, and receive.
And give. And receive.
Please tell me about you. How do you give? How do you receive? Today, I honestly NEED to know.