Labor

Reminded this week of 2007, and my work family flying me home for two weeks so I could take care of my sweet sister in law Jeannie.

Recovering from a stem cell transplant, she needed round the clock care.  She came into my life when I turned eleven and demonstrated to me that a woman can have strength, courage, intelligence and beauty.  She had a kick ass attitude about life.  It was Jeannie who INSISTED I get over my fear and drove me out to get my license after waiting two whole months after I turned sixteen.  So I treasured the chance to be with her and cheer her on.

Jeannie was pretty sick, and the anti-rejection drugs made her exhausted and unable to eat.  Yet, she NEEDED to eat, as she was painfully thin.  A visit to her physician ended with unofficial advice to get some weed.

The next day, the doorbell rang, and I saw Frank Serpico outlined in a halo of winter light standing before me peering through the glass storm door.  Really not Al Pacino, but holy fuck he sure looked like him.  He held a small old fashioned cigar box.  I could only stare.

He cleared his throat and handed me the box.

"This is for Jeannie."

I continued to stare at him like a starstruck teenager.  Then I grabbed my purse sitting at the entry.

"Umm, oh.  That.  How much do I owe you?"

He smiled and waved me off.  Before I could protest, he waved goodbye and disappeared quickly.

Jeannie giggled like HELL when I chided her for not telling me the hottest man alive would be delivering her weed.  I would have at least put on some mascara.

"Who IS that guy?"

"Oh, he's my brother's friend.  He grows it."

The weed did the trick,  and Jeannie gained a little more weight and could tolerate eating more.  She wouldn't smoke inside, so we bundled her up in millions of layers and huddled on the icy patio like two teenagers getting high and ditching class.  We joked often about my crush on our "supplier."  Jeannie, being Jeannie, kept encouraging the flirtation.

Twice more, my Serpico came.  The last time I was ready, and thrust cash into his hand.  He immediately pushed it back and smiled the warmest smile.

"This is a labor of love."

Ahhhhh, MELT!   A million times I replay that scene in my mind and always my heart glows.  At the time, I was shy, insulated, unaware and fearful of living an authentic life and clearly unprepared for my Serpico encounters.

Things have changed.  Jeannie is gone from our world.  This week will be 5 years.   I am healthy, have much more confidence and really, I just can't be fearful.  In her honor, I will do TWO things.  I will register as a bone marrow donor AND while I'm here in Oklahoma this week, I WILL find my fine Serpico and come hell or high water, I'll repay his kindness in a labor of a different kind of love.

LAUGHING.......  Or at the VERY least, he'll get a big fatty from me in the form of a kiss and a hug.