‘God bless you for your faithfulness and loving spirit’

It was her first Thursday grocery day.

Hannah McClellan, 22, was greeted on the porch by several scattered potted plants and a welcome sign shaped like a horse. She held bags of food filled with the likes of gluten-free Snyder’s pretzel rods, carrots and Trop50.

The door cracked open, just enough for Madeline Young to poke her head through without her cat, Willie, darting away. She was almost 80 years old, living alone and recovering from an accident. She couldn’t get her groceries herself.

McClellan smiled behind her mask, said hello, and placed the groceries on the ground in front of her. She waved goodbye.

These two women, almost 60 years apart, would discover a fulfillment in their relationship that neither could have anticipated. The kind that isolation and stay-at-home orders stole from them both.

Because Thursdays were more than just grocery days.

Madeline

On Feb. 18, 2019, Madeline Young called 911. She had found her husband unconscious in their home.

Bill hadn’t been who she’d fallen in love with for a while. They used to hike, but his glaucoma had worsened, and he couldn’t navigate the roots and rocks anymore. He loved to bike, but his doctors persuaded him to stop for his safety. He had dementia, and though he never forgot who she was, he deteriorated as time went on.

“I had grieved for him about five years before he died, because that’s when he wasn’t the Bill that I knew,” Young said.

Bill Young, 89, died of a brain bleed the next morning.

Madeline was upset, and alone for the first time in 36 years. But she was also relieved. Because after acting as caregiver for 10 years, Madeline finally slept. For six weeks, all she did was sleep.

Eventually, still missing her husband but tired of sleeping, Young decided to return to a lifelong hobby of horseback riding.

“I’ve loved horses ever since I was knee-high to a grasshopper,” she said.

Young bought her first horse in her early 20s. She rode competitively for most of her life, participating in endurance competitions with the same horse for 20 years.

Horseback riding was her connection to God and his creations. Riding her horse through Duke Forest, she saw owls, raccoons, turtles and flowers of all sorts. It was her sanity when her husband’s condition was worsening. The barn was her happy place, and riding on her horse, Mocha, she could find relief from her duties as caregiver.

When Bill died, she and Mocha grieved together. And her days didn’t seem so lonely.

But in September of that year, Young had an accident. Mocha went to scratch his chin with his back foot, and when he put his foot down, it got caught in the reins. He spooked and was spinning in circles, until he fell over — landing on top of her.

“I broke my pelvis in several places, and it was not pretty,” she said. “I was bruised. I was all different colors.”

Young spent the next two weeks in intensive care, unable to walk or bear weight. She was transferred to rehabilitation centers at UNC hospital and Hillcrest Convalescent Center, spending months learning how to walk again. After being released, she moved in with friends in Henderson, who drove her to rehab appointments at Mariah Parham Hospital there multiple times each week.

By Thanksgiving, though, she decided to return home.

“I said, ‘I’m going home.’” Young said. “They said to me, ‘Who told you that you can go home?’ And I said, ‘Me! I’ve been away out of my house for three months, and it’s time. I want to go back.’”

She still couldn’t walk without a cane, and her time in rehab was far from over. Her daughter was living in Greensboro, and though she helped her during the next few months, she couldn’t stay with her full-time.

By March 2020, Madeline Young was living alone, physically and mentally beaten down.

Then, the pandemic began.

Hannah

Hannah McClellan’s drive wasn’t letting up despite graduation growing near.

In her last semester at UNC’s Hussman School of Journalism and Media, she juggled classes, wrote for the Daily Tar Heel and freelanced for Chapel Hill Magazine and Durham Magazine. She had applied for countless summer internships, awaiting responses and eager for a plan after graduation.

Every week, she babysat for two separate families, interned at her church’s youth ministry and worked shifts at Acme Food and Beverage. Working 30 hours per week as a full-time student, McClellan was busy, always busy. And she liked it that way.

“It was pretty normal for me to leave the house in the morning with three packed meals,” she said. “My housemates would joke with me because they’d be like, ‘We never see you.’”

But in March 2020, the hustle and bustle of her daily life turned silently still.

She lost her restaurant job first. Acme shut down. Her babysitting gigs fell through shortly after, as stay-at-home orders surfaced nationwide.

Finally, one by one, the post-graduation internships she’d applied to were cancelled.

With no source of income, she wondered if she could afford to pay rent. With no summer internship, she wondered if she would find a job after graduation. With no hustle and bustle, she wondered how she would stay sane.

“It was a surreal time when everything was changing,” she said. “I definitely had a lot of anxiety about like, what do I do after graduating?”

Searching for purpose, McClellan decided to deliver groceries to senior citizens who were especially at risk. When Madeline Young responded to her email, they coordinated a time and a grocery list.

That week, she made her first of many purchases with a senior discount from Harris Teeter.

Madeline and Hannah

Thursdays were always grocery days.

Madeline Young likes goat cheese. But not the kind in the pyramid, the kind shaped like a log. She also likes cookies, but only Tate’s Cookies, the ones in the green bag with the gluten-free label. The carrots are for Mocha, so the brand doesn’t matter.

Hannah McClellan knows this by heart. After a few months of deliveries, there was no need for a list. She’d memorized the aisles, the labels and the shapes.

For 51 weeks, she dropped the bags off on Madeline’s porch, and the two talked through the crack of the door. They talked about the weather, about upcoming dates and plans for the evening. They cracked jokes to one another about the cat’s mischievous ways, as he was always trying to squeeze through the door.

The two spoke deeper about life, too. They wrestled with the election and the storming of the Capitol, reflecting on injustices and the state of the country. When McClellan finally landed a reporting job in June, they rejoiced together. And in the weeks that followed, they talked about the job and the stories McClellan was pursuing.

Madeline holds her cat as she talks to Hannah about what they’ve been up to lately.

For 51 weeks, they looked forward to their conversations on that porch, whether they were short and sweet or long and dense. Because Thursdays were more than just grocery days.

They were McClellan’s structure. Routine largely ripped out from under her, she begged for a purpose. She needed a break from the silent stillness.

“Grocery deliveries were such a source of consistency,” she said. “Every Thursday, I saw her, and we had the same routine. That was just a really nice thing.”

They were Young’s relief. In the years before her husband’s death, her role was to maintain the life of someone else. She needed someone to be her own caretaker.

“I was not in good shape,” she said. “Mentally, emotionally, physically. When COVID started, I really I freaked out. And was like, ‘Oh, my gosh, how am I going to do this?’”

And for both women, in a time when human connection seemed out-of-reach, they were the days when smiles and friendship were guaranteed. Making isolation a little less isolating.

“When I first started delivering groceries to Madeline, I hadn’t even seen my family yet, McClellan said. “It was just good to be able to spend time with an older person who actually had an interest in my life and the things going on. For both of us, it was a relationship that made us feel good during a time that felt pretty lousy. And that’s something not to take for granted.”

March 18, 2021, McClellan made her last grocery delivery, tearing up as she drove the familiar route. Young was almost fully vaccinated, and her rehabilitation was successful. Their Thursday grocery days weren’t necessary anymore.

They did what they always did, exchanging groceries and conversation. They said their goodbyes, and thanked each other for a year of friendship. Young handed McClellan a card on her way out.

Your help this past year has helped keep me from feeling anxious, from using strength I didn’t have, Young wrote. God bless you for your faithfulness and loving spirit.

Young waved goodbye in her driveway as McClellan drove away.

In her grocery bags, she found a card for her as well.

Meeting you has been one of the joys of this otherwise very hard pandemic year, McClellan wrote. What started as you needing help with groceries turned into such a steady bright spot of my weeks. Grateful to know you.