Friends

I learned once again this week that by doing one little thoughtful thing for a neighbor and friend you are overpaid in return with love, graciousness, and a realization of how much we take for granted living in this beautiful section of Monmouth County.

With a couple of hours of free time, the sun shining and temperatures making it seem like early summer, I asked my friend, older and more handicapped than I, if she wanted to go for a ride simply to enjoy the day and local scenery.

My friend is still recovering from a stroke of two years ago, one that left her paralyzed on one side of her body, but with a strong, vibrant mind and a determination to not let that ‘minor inconvenience” stop her from continuing to live and teach others.

While she undergoes therapy regularly and has a round the clock care giver, my friend is making progress every day, can walk short ways with some assistance, and works hard unceasingly to keep improving.

Now her caregiver is my very good friend as well. Young, attractive, strong, highly educated and learning more English every day, she is from the country of Georgia, has been in the United States several months and is determined to learn more about the language, the customs and the people every day while she saves money to continue her career in the medical field.

But a trip to Sandy Hook to see the ocean requires a wheelchair. And that strong caregiver had to negotiate it down steps and into the car.  Thoughtful, as always, this Georgian caregiver was excited for the trip as well. Knowing that it is windier and cooler at the ocean, she brought an extra blanket should her patient get the chance to get out for a walk along one of the paths at Sandy Hook.  Yet coming from Georgia, she had never seen the ocean, never put her hands in the chilly salt water.  She laughed like a little kid in anticipation, saying she would be taking “a lot of pictures” and telling her family and friends in Georgia what it was like.

Unfortunately, it is not easy to see the ocean from a seat in a car driving through the peninsula, because of the distance in some places, the height of the dunes in other areas. But both my friends loved the Shrewsbury River, the view of the Twin Lights from that distance, the comfort and location of Highlands’ oldest and longest serving business, Bahrs Restaurant. They enjoyed hearing about  Captain Azzolina for whom the bridge between Sea Bright and Highlands is named, and they opened windows to sniff the salt air.

But to be so close, yet so far from seeing the expanse of the ocean would not be right. So, with no signs available showing the way, we pulled into a parking lot and discovered the walkway and bikeway that led to a deck, with a path to the deck accessible with a wheelchair.  It was too good to pass up.

So, my Georgian friend took out the wheelchair, got her patient settled in it wrapping the blanket around her for extra warmth. And we took the walk from the car to the ramp to the deck that looked out over the ocean.

The reaction of my Georgian friend is what made me first realize just how much we take for granted. She was beside herself with joy, laughing, singing, using every adjective she knew to describe the sight. Once she was certain her patient was settled comfortably and secure with me sitting on the deck, our young friend literally dashed down the steps to the beach, ran the length of the beach, stopping every once in a while to grab a handful of sand or look at a seashell, then rushed to the ocean, shoes still on, to hold the Atlantic Ocean in her hand. She was too far away, but we could almost hear her laughter, her glee in being this close to the ocean for the first time in her life and her excitement at such natural beauty.

A few minutes later, she made the return trip to the deck, stopping to pick up clam shells of all sizes along with mussel shells that surprised her with their black and deep blue colors. She took her photos, selfies and with her friends; she grinned with delight at another couple who had come up on the deck for the view. Then she told us with more of that laughing enthusiasm that while down at the water’s edge, she had called her friend in Georgia, just to let her know what it felt like to put her hand in the ocean for the very first time.

While our young friend was cavorting and dancing, my friend in the wheelchair was simply smiling, perhaps recalling the times she herself was on, in, or flying over that ocean, breathing in the fresh salt air and soaking up warm sunshine under a blanket shielding her from the breeze. She laughed and welcomed back her caregiver, teasing her about acting like a little child and admiring the supply of shells she brought back to show.

After more photo taking, we headed back to the car, making the transition from wheelchair to car seat, stowing the chair in the back, and headed out to see more of the natural beauty of Sandy Hook from the river and bay side, before heading up to the Twin Lights to see up close that castle-like building my friends could see from across the river.