Simple Charities

I received a text message from my friend Rachel last night, who had undergone serious foot surgery for a foot disorder that, as she describes, "make my feet look like an eight year old woman’s." The message read " I’m felng biter, I tnnk I’m redy to go outs." My God, I thought. When she said she’d be drugged for a week or two after surgery, she wasn’t kidding. After I deciphered her message( I’m feeling better, I think I’m ready to go out) I messaged her back that I was coming over, and there was no way she was going out. Knowing Rachel, she’d die if she knew I had taken her out into public life when she was on medication and half out of it. Apparently her friend had come over the day before, and Rachel’s mom had thrust her Visa card at her and told her to take Rachel out of the house. I wouldn’t feel quite right doing this, so I had brought a desert for Rachel instead.
When I opened the door to her bedroom, I wasn’t fully prepared. There was a dried crusty patch of drool on her chin, her leg was in a blue cast a-la 4th grade, and she could seriously compete with my grandmother for the amount of pills on her dresser. Oprah was blaring in the background, and Grey’s Anatomy DVD’s were strewn across the floor. I helped her downstairs (she slid), and into the kitchen. I then unpacked a few ingredients I had brought from my house. I took out strawberries, blueberries and raspberries. After cutting up the strawberries into small pieces that resembled cubes, I mixed all the berries into one bowl. I then took out cool whip and put it in a separate bowl, and then sprinkled the berries over it. Rachel loved it, and I had done the smallest kind of charity for my friend.