Love Is the Best Medicine Read Online Free Page B

fields of reforestation peppered by potato farms. There were no other kids in the neighborhood because there wasno neighborhood. During those times when her mother had a job, Sandi might not see, let alone communicate with, another human being for twelve hours at a stretch. Little wonder this lonely child lost herself in a perfect playground where animal friends rescued her from her isolation and saved her through their companionship.
    One afternoon, walking the road home from her two-room public school, Sandi came across a cluster of caterpillars, sprinkled like furry orange confetti across the hot blacktop. Passing cars were a rarity but when one blew by, highlighting their peril, she felt compelled to act. Pulling the bottom of her T-shirt out of her shorts, she fashioned a collecting pouch, squatted down, and hopped across the asphalt gathering the vulnerable grubs. On an ordinary day the walk home from school took fifteen minutes, door to door, but Sandi’s rescue mission and the delivery of every single endangered and wayward caterpillar to the safety of a green leaf in a nearby tree took over two hours.
    Triumphant, bursting through the back door, Sandi shouted,
    “Mom, mom, guess what I just—”
    “How … dare … you!”
    Sandi heard the words before she saw where they were coming from, heard each syllable crushed between clenched molars. Then her mother stepped into the kitchen, gloved hands on hips, dressed as though she were about to drive into town.
    “You knew I had a hair appointment this afternoon. I specifically reminded you this morning, but once again you were only thinking about yourself. When are you going to wake up from that dream world you live in?”
    The lambasting continued, extinguishing all the delight and sense of accomplishment in her daughter’s eyes. At some point most parents would interject phrases like “worried sick” or “something might have happened to you,” defending their anger with fear. Not so Sandi’s mother. We could cut her some slack, after all this was theearly sixties, a time when children were routinely turned out like horses, encouraged to use their imagination for play, a time before cell phones, when a holler out the back door was enough. Still, a belief that your child had to be safe seems like a poor excuse for not looking.
    Later, exiled to her bedroom, Sandi tried to fathom why her mother would care more about a haircut than about helping innocent creatures. Standing at the window, imprisoned and crying, this little girl did not know how to articulate her feelings, but she was certain that looking right could never be as important as doing right, and that tears and isolation were no reward for offering nature a small but helpful hand.
    Animals began plugging the holes in Sandi’s life, giving her purpose and something to love. She wanted to love her mother, but the abandoned and hopeless cats and dogs she rescued were quick to teach her that love requires reciprocity. It is a game requiring a minimum of two players. You get back what you put in and if one side loses interest, there’s not much point in playing on.
    The lucky beneficiaries of her mother’s affection were mostly, and always would be, men. There had been a father, somewhere along the way, but he had disappeared, along with all their family photos, robbing Sandi of the evidence and what few memories remained of his pathetic involvement in her childhood.
    Replacement fathers came and went, and during the gaps in between her mother might seek refuge and affection from her daughter. At these times Sandi’s mother absorbed love like a black hole absorbs light, insisting on being loved. She sought reassurances regarding the freshness of her physical appearance, berated herself and then justified all her weaknesses as a mother. As soon as the hiatus between men ended, Sandi knew this temporary vulnerability would vanish, forgotten, the frigid and detached relationship with her mother instantly