ElleSpeak

During the three years I lived and worked at Crestwood Village North my son’s family lived only a couple of minutes away. My son, his wife, and their three children were always there for me during my transition from being a long-time married woman to a single woman. If I needed anything they were immediately present for me and I did my best to be there for them.

Happily, one way I was able to be of help to them was to spend time with their youngest son, Cooper, who was about 7 years old at the time. Cooper and I spent a lot of time together in Building Two where I lived. He loved riding the elevator and visiting the fitness room where he walked on the treadmill, and rode the stationary bicycle when his legs were finally long enough to reach the pedals.

The residents all knew who Cooper was, and they were always kind to him, and asked about him if they hadn’t seen him in a while. His young presence brought joy to many residents and he gained valuable social skills, frequently shaking hands with people and learning to exchange pleasantries with them.

He especially looked forward to the first Saturday of each month when many of the residents came together in the common area to share doughnuts and coffee. They always set aside a few doughnuts for Cooper and me, and loved chatting with Cooper while he devoured the sweet treats.

Most Saturdays or Sundays I would go to the grocery and run other errands, often accompanied by Cooper who had spent the previous night with me. One Saturday morning he and I were loading our groceries into the back of my Mini Cooper. Like most young children Cooper was always looking for ways to be independent and feel more grown up, and as a grandparent I enjoyed helping him find those opportunities. Our car was two parking spaces away from the cart corral and I asked him to return the cart.

I stood at the back of my Mini Cooper watching him look for cars in all directions, then proceed to proudly push the cart back to the cart corral, and shove it forcefully into line with the other carts. As he turned around to walk back to me he dusted off his hands in two quick motions, stood a little taller, and said with conviction, “I feel like a man”.

Not wanting him to see the laughter in my eyes I turned away, and as I opened the car door for him to climb into the backseat I said, “Thanks Cooper! Nice job!”

I didn’t fully realize it at the time but during the three years I spent at Crestwood, Cooper was “my man” . He was one of my best friends who reached out to
me frequently for fun and companionship, just as I reached out to him for the same. We were always there for each other.

I see a little less of him now because he’s a teen-ager, and it’s only right that he finds other best friends in his life; but, he knows I’ll always be there for him. I hope he also knows how grateful I am and how privileged I feel to be a part of his journey towards becoming a full-grown man.