What if you discovered you could use a time machine and could go back in time just once, for just an hour?
Where and when would you travel to? What would you do? Save the world? Meet with a famous person? Wreak havoc by messing with events?
I would go back to the year 1971.
In a nursing home where I worked there was a wonderful woman. Her name was Mrs. Mello, but we all called her Mama Mello. Sounds funny now, but if you had known her, you would have said it with respect.
She was Italian and had a very large family. They visited her often and took wonderful care of her. She was always joyful, even though she had many medical problems and could hardly walk. I used to like to brush her long gray hair that she usually wore in plain braids before I got her ready for bed and she would tell me stories of near death visions she had once when she was on the operating table. This was back before people talked about those things much.
Mama Mello was a Catholic and every time I would put her to bed at night, she would make me lean close to her and she would make a cross on my forehead with her thumb and then kiss her thumb. She was like an angel in that place where in so many other rooms there were old women who threw things at you when you walked in the door they were so old and angry.
One time, we were talking about death. She brought up the subject…. And I asked her if she was afraid of dying. And she said, “Oh honey, to me it looks like a glass of wine.” And then she kissed the tips of her fingers. I have never met anyone like her before or since.
But if I had a time machine, I know exactly what I would do. I would go back to that nursing home and to one thing very different
I would go back to the late afternoon when I came to work, especially upset over some things that were going on in my life. And there was Mama Mello sitting up in bed, her family having left for the day. The only thing I could think of that would bring me some kind of comfort would be to brush her hair for a while. But, someone had been there and washed her hair and braided it in French braids. I knew I had no idea how to re-braid them, but I undid one anyway and brushed her hair and talked to her about life…
Well, when it came time to braid it back up, I could not make it as beautiful as it had been just a short time ago. And I felt awful. That especially awful feeling when you know that you knew better, but ignored your inner voice.
I did the best job I could braiding it back, but it was no where near as nice. I leaned over and whispered to her that I was sorry. She just smiled at me and patted my hand. And she still made the cross on my forehead that night.
But to this day, I am so full of regret that I was so incredibly selfish that afternoon. It comes to mind more often than you might imagine. If I could go back and change any thing, anything at all, that would be it. I would curb my own need for comfort and just be with her and ask her to tell me again what she saw that day when she was not quite in and not quite out of her body.
I wonder what her glass of wine tasted like ? I think it must have been a very special vintage that God had been saving up for a special occasion - for the day when Mama Mello came home.