puzzle solver
stories from Maine
As I walk up the porch of a small home tucked into a neighborhood cul de sac in Sabattus, Maine, the door pops open before me. The woman I am here to meet has spotted me in the driveway, and comes out to greet me warmly, though we have never met.
We sit at her kitchen table, to one side an expansive puzzle. I think, “That’s got to be 200 pieces.” It’s more, actually, I’ll come to learn.
We get situated, and begin to talk about how Maine has been her home in childhood and for the last two decades, bookending time in New Jersey.
Hear her speak of her grounded relationship to her home now, specifically to her neighborhood, as she looks out the windows overlooking her street.
I ask if she can think of an example of her neighbors stepping in for her, and she offers a telling story.
She also drives this relationship by stepping in for her neighbors, too, particularly someone who is homebound, as she shares:
We revisit her career in the medical field as an obstetrics nurse, where she brought many a child into the world.
Given the meaning and purpose that comes with work, and with being a medical providers, I wondered whether she struggled with the transition to retirement. Change, she explains, was something she was already braced for by her career.
The loss of her husband at far too young was a blow, but hear how she even surprised herself at her ability to recover, spurred, most likely, by the fact that she became a caregiver for her mother on the tails of his passing.
Photo taken by Grace Ellrodt with subject’s consent.
Her proximity to family spurred her emotional recovery. She is in constant contact with her son.
And though distant from some grandchildren, she has a mentoring relationship with her granddaughters for whom she is a quick-to-laugh combination of friend and grandmother.
A second strong loneliness antidote: friendship. She notes, importantly, that your views do not have to align always to be friends, as long as you talk it out comfortably, as she experiences.
Social media is a tool for keeping up friendships from now distant places. She reflects on how she balances the benefits of technology as a connector with the negativity which can circulate.
We’ve heard prior about the role of her neighborhood in engaging her with a near-home community. She also is civically-involved. We talked at length about her involvement in a town festival uniting older adults and families.
At her town voting booths, she participates in adjusting to the demographic change of her community.
Given she has had periods of aloneness and sadness in the wake of loss, though not a deeper loneliness, I ask whether she’s spoken with any of her doctors about mental health. She explains what makes her feel supported by her doctors.
And given her career in medicine, I ask for her assessment of whether health providers could offer more mental health support.
She highlights for me the role of nurse practitioners, who may have more time than physicians or a stronger relationship with the patient, allowing for more patient-provider conversation about mental health, relationships, and intimacy.
Her understanding of aging comes from witnessing her mother’s process in the closest proximity, as her caregiver. You’ll hear that when I next ask what loneliness means to her, she likewise draws on her mother’s experience.
But she is adamant in distinguishing herself from her mother’s experience. With creative and intellectual passions, family, friendships, community, and a certain sense of contentment with her situation, her loneliness is not deep. But hear how she, a human, would love human company nonetheless.
She sends me home with cookies for my roommate and I. Munching happily that night, I think: There’s a puzzle here. One she might not completely solve, but she’s gathered so many of the right pieces.