Falling off the boat

Here are the beautiful hands of a sleeping resident at the nursing home where I worked for the past semester as an nursing student instructor. She is a lovely woman and she said I could take some photos of her; I felt guilty using ones of her face, though, because she is slightly demented so I wasn't sure about legal consent.
But she is really wonderful and pretty with-it for a ninety year old woman. I have enjoyed being with her these past six months.

Being in the nursing home has lifted a deep underlying fear of mine. I was scared of being incapable of caring for myself; destitute; alone. I didn't really have an awareness of this fear; I just felt a lightness when it was gone.
This nursing home is a regular place; not perfect at all, but the abiding and ruling feeling is one of love for the old, the crazy and the infirm. Residents have been stuck in bed or totally senile for decades and the people at these places take care of them, watch over them, sit with them and do their best to give them a safe and loving home. I now believe if you fall off the boat, if I fall off the boat of life, into terrible dreaded waters, that things will be OK. A net will rise to catch us, that people are out there who will love and care for us, as best they can; even if they don't get paid enough and they get no credit.