OverSixty April 2023 Digital

OVERSIXTY.COM.AU | ISSUE 4 | APRIL 2023 21 LIFESTYLE ey-coloured hair opened the door. “Hello,” I said. “I’mRuthPeterson. Imissed seeing your little girl today and wondered where she was.” “Oh yes, Mrs Peterson, please come in.” “Wendy talked of you so much. I’m afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nui- sance, please accept my apologies.” “Not at all – she’s a delightful child,” I said, realising that I meant it. “Where is she?” “Wendy died last week, Mrs Peterson. She had leukaemia. Maybe she didn’t tell you.” Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. My breath caught. “She loved this beach; so when she asked to come, we couldn’t say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks she declined rapidly…” Her voice faltered. “She left something for you, if only I can !nd it. Could you wait a moment while I look?” I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something, anything, to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope, with MRS P printed in bold, childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues – a yellow beach, a blue sea, a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed: A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY Tears welled up inmy eyes and a heart that had almost forgotten how to love opened wide. I took Wendy’s mother in my arms. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I mut- tered over and over, and we wept together. "e precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words – one for each year of her life – that speak to me of in- ner harmony, courage, undemanding love. A gift from a child with sea-blue eyes and hair the colour of sand – who taught me the gift of love. MAY SHERMAN HILBERT REMINISCE S everal years ago, a neighbour related to me an experience that happened to her one winter on a beach. "e incident stuck in my mind and I took note of what she said. Later, at a writers’ conference, the conversa- tion came back to me and I felt I had to set it down. Here is her story, as haunting to me now as when I !rst heard it: She was six years old when I !rst met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in onme. She was building a sandcastle or some- thing and looked up, eyes as blue as the sea. “Hello,” she said. I answered with a nod, not in the mood to bother with a small child. “I’m building,” she said. “I see that. What is it?” I asked, not caring. “I don’t know. I just like the feel of the sand.” "at sounds good, I thought and slipped o$ my shoes. A sandpiper glided by. “"at’s a joy,” the child said. “It’s what?” “It’s a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy.” "e bird went glissading down the beach. “Good-bye, joy,” I muttered to myself, “hello, pain,” and turned to walk on. I was depressed; my life seemed completely out of balance. “What’s your name?” She wouldn’t give up. “Ruth,” I answered, “I’m Ruth Peterson.” “Mine’s Windy.” It sounded like Windy. “And I’m six.” “Hi, Windy.” She giggled. “You’re funny,” she said. In spite of my gloom I laughed and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me. “Come again, Mrs P,” she called. “We’ll have another happy day.” "e days and weeks that followed be- longed to others: a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTAmeetings, an ailing mother. "e sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. “I need a sandpiper,” I said tomyself, gettingmy coat. "e ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. "e breeze was chilly, but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity A sandpiper to bring you joy I needed. I had forgotten the child and was startled when she appeared. “Hi, Mrs P,” she said. “Do youwant to play?” “What did you have inmind?” I asked, with a twinge of annoyance. “I don’t know. You say.” “Howabout charades?” I said sarcastically. "e tinkling laughter burst forth again. “I don’t know what that is.” “"en let’s just walk.” Looking at her, I no- ticed the delicate fairness of her face. “Where do you live?” I asked. “Over there.” She pointed to a row of sum- mer cottages. Strange , I thought, in winter. “Where do you go to school?” “I don’t go to school. Mummy says we’re on vacation.” She chattered “little-girl” talk aswe strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things. When I left for home, Windy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed. "ree weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood even to greet Windy. I thought I sawhermother on the porch and felt like demanding that she keep her child at home. “Look, if you don’t mind,” I said crossly when Windy caught up with me, “I’d rather be alone today.” She seemed unusually pale and out of breath. “Why?” she asked. I turned on her and shouted, “Because my mother died!” – and thought, my God, why was I saying this to a little child? “Oh,” she said softly, “then this is a bad day.” “Yes, and yesterday and the day before that and – oh, go away!” “Did it hurt?” “Did what hurt?” I was exasperated with her, with myself. “When she died?” “Of course it hurt!” I snapped, misunder- standing, wrapped up in myself. I strode o$. A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn’t there. Feeling guilty, ashamed and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn-looking young woman with hon- First published in Reader’s Digest in June 1980, this life-a"rming tale has become a much-loved classic Photo: Getty Images LIFESTYLE Six words – one for each year of the young girl’s life – softened a woman’s hardened heart Saluting Seal JULIE KING Every so often, I take myself for a relaxing drive just to get out of my four walls. On this particular morning I had driven to Eagle Bay, near Busselton in Western Australia. I was sitting in the warmth of my car sipping a coffee on a cold, blustery winter day and watching the ocean. The rugged coastline was spectacular with white foamy waves crashing into the rocks. Suddenly, the most majestic fur seal appeared from nowhere. I had to close and re-open my eyes in disbelief. The black, shiny, blubbery mammal playfully clambered up the rocks until he reached the highest point right in front of me. There he stretched his nose high in the air, saluting to the skies. It was as if he was bestowing gratitude to the universe for his wonderful life of freedom. I thought to capture the image on my phone, but I was transfixed and couldn’t take my eyes from him. I was utterly connected to him in those precious moments, where nothing else mattered or even existed apart from the two of us. I could feel my whole self soften and felt warmed, uplifted and free all at once, because of him. The next moment, my beautiful friend slid down from his position back into the ocean as if enjoying a waterslide. The memory will stay with me forever. Amazing Escape Artist MIA TETANGO My brother Patrick’s pet Coolio was an outdoor cat who loved our backyard. Patrick had raised Coolio from a kitten, and the pair were devoted to each other. One December evening we were scheduled to have an outdoor dinner party. Coolio loved nothing better than to jump on our outdoor table and take food from our plates. As we didn’t want this happening to our guests, Patrick put him in the bathroom on the first floor, and closed the window. After closing the door, Patrick felt confident the dinner party would go smoothly. But no more than ten minutes later, the cheeky kitten sauntered back into the garden and over to the food table. Certain he hadn’t forgotten to close the window, Patrick returned Coolio to the bathroom to find that the window was open. He then carefully shut the window, only to watch as Coolio casually jumped up onto the window sill, pawed at the lock just long enough to prise it open, and slipped out to freedom. Clearly it was pointless leaving him in the bathroom, so Coolio was allowed to join the party. After receiving a plate of his own food to enjoy, he left us and our guests alone to enjoy our dinner. ANIMAL ESCAPADES Some animals have a powerful presence BONUS SECTION WIN! Share your tales of clever pets or wildlife and you could win a $250 voucher from House of Pets. See page 9 to contribute