If you’re a bird, I’m a bird

Sitting in a closing early this evening, we were waiting for some copies. The title attorney recognized the nursing home housekeeping scrubs that the sweet African-American woman, the buyer, was wearing. He mentioned to her that he had been there before. She smiled a mouth full of gold teeth and giggled as if he was telling a joke. In all seriousness he started to explain how he knew about it.

There was an elderly man whose wife was admitted to this certain nursing home upon advancing Alzheimer’s. They had been married 60 years. He was heartbroken and did everything he could to get her out of the home. He even snuck in and hid to spend the night in her recliner beside her bed just so he could be with her while she slept.

They had little money. This man sold his home to afford the cost of being able to get her out of the nursing home and move somewhere else together just so he could be with her and take care of her.

This elderly man was the title attorney at my table’s client.

I watched as the lightbulb turned on across the table for the buyer. For she had worked at the nursing home for years and new exactly who he was referring to. “Oh that was Miss Elsie!” (Or some name with an E… I couldn’t focus on the details as I was trying not to cry). She started laughing as she recalled how her husband would try to smuggle her out of the home on numerous occasions. The staff even had to put a censor on her ankle in case she ever left the doors. I guess a hand-full of other ladies at the home complained about how they wished a man loved them like that, the rest saying no thank-you.

Being the hopeless romantic that I am, I’d want that kind of love.

I smile thinking about The Notebook and how similar their love must have been to the fictional tale of Noah and Aly. I guess that type of love isn’t just in books or movies.


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