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We only go around once, but if we do it right, once is enough~

Saturday, May 10, 2008

Little Bobbie Jean

The day on the School bus with my grandson, I encountered the most beautiful identical twin girls, three years old. They were daughters of the bus driver and totally darling with big eyes and bright smiles. They were beautiful, beautiful black children. I sat across and one seat back from them on our trip back from the field trip. One of the twins couldn't take her eyes off me. I wondered what she saw and what she thought. She gazed with a happy expression. I said hello, which opened a conversation.
She told me she liked my hat and after some time of looking, asked my name. She thought about that for a minute, taking me in the entire time. Then she wanted to know how to spell my name. Her next question threw me for a loop.
"Where is your mother?" Since I am of the age, that most people wouldn't wonder about my mother!! Then I realized that must be a question asked of them as they were with their dad each day.

She was a little chatterbox looking at me with her beautiful dark eyes. As we talked a memory began to emerge from long, long ago ...and touching the memory, more it came in focus until later that day, the memory was back to me as clear as day...

As I stood to leave the bus, she asked me if I would give her a hug. There was no way I would leave without a warm embrace...a BIG HUG. She was beautiful, as beautiful as my little Bobbie Jean.

BOBBIE JEAN. I remember her with my heart.

I was a new graduate only 21 years old and made the decision to work with children on a Pediatric Ward of a Private Hospital for my first job. I suppose my dating one of the Orthopedic Surgeons for over a year had something to do with this choice. Actually, I had not been in love with this guy at all, but since "Mr Right" hadn't come along, I loved the prestige of going with him to all the wonderful parties and being seen with this man 15 years my senior. To work with children there would keep me in his world and I did enjoy working and being with him.

The first week of my job, my friend took a case which was an almost impossible situation, requiring the three year old black child to remain hospitalized for over a year. Therefore, he was on the ward every day...but our relationship soon was over when I met someone who stole my heart.

Another person who stole my heart was the little girl who had just been admitted for a long and involved hospitalization.

The little girl had been victim to polio...a disease we don't see today, but she was from a very poor and backward family who lived far from a small town and the child didn't get her immunization. When she developed polio, as she recovered, the family sat her back on folded legs and polio froze her in that position. Her legs were like frog legs, impossible to straighten or move.

She cried as her family left her, naturally. I watched the tearful seperation as they left not to see her for what turned out to be a year and half. The crying child was surrounded by the nurses trying to comfort her.
It was said that the family wouldn't be coming back until she was discharged due to their inability to travel the distance.
I felt the sadness.

Naturally, I being as young as I was, started spending lots of time with her...and soon the surgeries began. I stayed with her after my hours to keep a hand on her little arm as the busy ward whirled by. She had no family and no visitors. On her bad days, she had me.
One day, she told me I was her mother. I was pleased as we had bonded.
I would take her out of her crib and hold her and read to her. I brought her toys.
She adjusted and blossomed.
She was cheerful and happy and had the best spot on the ward to know everything that went on and became very outgoing. She could see me coming down the hallway and yell..."Mama! Mama!"

One day I had her in my lap talking with her and holding her little hand. She looked at her hand in mine...turned her hand over...compared...turned my hand over to compare...and looking for a long time, finally said..."Mama..... my hand is blue." She didn't know her colors...but she knew our hands were different. We started learning colors at this point. She was now aware that we looked nothing alike which made no difference at all.

One night we had a nice snow which was unusual for the Deep South. Bobbie Jean had never seen snow. I had the day off and all I could think about was how I wanted to take Bobbie Jean out to experience the cold and the snow. She had now been in the hospital over a year. I knew she would love it, but I dare not ask as there was no way I could get permission...I knew that was so forbidden and a terrible chance. It was my reckless youth and love for this child that drove me on. I knew what I could do to make it happen. I knew quite times and and how I could carry her down the stairs to the outside for a little while. She was all smiles as I whispered that we were going out to see and touch the snow. I scooped her up into my arms grabbing a blanket and back down the hallway, down the stairs we went ....down, down to the exit and into the snow.

She couldn't get down because of new braces...but from my crouched position, she leaned forward from my lap to touch and smooth out the snow and taste it a little. She didn't shriek with delight. She was very curious and serious with this new experience. She was amazed.
As quickly and quitely as we slipped out, we went back. No one was in the hallway; we made it happen.
I kept her wrapped in the blanket to restore her heat and sat next to her crib to read her a book about SNOW.

I think back about this...
There is no way in this world they could not have missed the child. There was no way Bobbie Jean didn't tell the world that she went outside with me. She was very precocious and outgoing. But the most interesting thing is not one single word was ever said to me from anyone. I, of course, was prepared to say it was a dream, which it was. It was my dream. No doubt that experience brought happiness perhaps more to me than the child.

Bobbie Jean was discharged after 18 months but could walk with braces. She was almost 5 years old. She still had a long road ahead of physical therapy. As soon as I knew she was leaving, I resigned the job as it never would be the same without her. So she and I left the same week. We both left to get on with our lives, a world apart.
I wonder if she remembers me at all. If so, I wonder if she thinks of me too.
June


2 comments:

Anonymous said...

you are doing great with this blog...very professional....I love reading it.
Janet
B'ham, Al

Anonymous said...

After writing the story, I decided to do a search for Bobby Jean and made many calls into the area where we lived as a child. No luck. No one with her last name knew of her. The End.
June

Memories ~ Life is a great trip!


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