Head Nun Comes Home

Head Nun was discharged a few days ago and we were so happy to have her back at the temple.  One of the temple devotees drove her home from the hospital and she was taken in a wheelchair from the car to her room.  We of course fussed around her and finally let her get some rest.

One morning as Head Nun was moving around using her walker, she beckoned to me and we both went to sit in one of the chairs facing the temple garden.

"You know, Vege Cat," she said.  "Not that I'm ungrateful, but when I fell that day and lost consciousness, I wished they had just let me go instead of rushing me to the hospital and having me operated on.  Now I'm  a burden to everyone here. I have difficulty moving around, the nuns have to bring me my meals and worst of all, I can't even dress myself.  Someone has to attend to me day and night - I can't prepare meals for you anymore."

"You're not a burden to anyone, Head Nun," I cried.  "We are so glad you are recovering and in a matter of weeks, you're going to be as good as new."

"Thank you, Vege Cat, I knew you would say that," she replied, sighing.

She looked up at the greying sky and continued, "You know, when I was young and living in China, my mother had a fall one day.   She slipped while washing the kitchen floor.  She was in terrible pain, I think she hurt her back.  We were too poor to send her to a hospital or pay for a doctor.  My father carried her to her bed and for weeks nursed her back.  He used a brick which he heated up over a charcoal fire and after it became warm, he wrapped it up in a thick towel and applied it on mother's back, like a hot compress, you know.  Sometimes he would add herbs.  He then taught me how to prepare the brick so that he could go out to work.  Miraculously, this treatment worked and very soon, mother was back on her feet."

"That's an interesting story, Head Nun," I said.

"Yes, my father loved her very much.  In his later years, my mother, noticing that his legs were not as strong as they used to be, brewed pots of chicken legs with garlic stems, red dates and red beans for him to take.  It was an old recipe which she learnt from grandma to strengthen the legs.  We had pot after pot of chicken legs ...."  Here Head Nun burst out laughing ...."You know, every time my father saw those poor legs being cooked, he would make some excuse and disappear somewhere!"

"Chicken legs, yuk!"  I exclaimed.  "But did they work?"

"Well, I don't know but my father lived to a ripe old age, 93 to be exact," said Head Nun.

Just then, it started to rain.  We both sat there, watching the rain splash over the garden and making little rivers into the drain.  Head Nun reached out and stroked my head.  I nestled close to her, both of us lost in our own thoughts as the rain lashed out in all its fury.....