Long
ago and far away, I knew someone, an older British woman, who I was very fond
of. Before I had known her, she'd had Labs, before that , two children in
England, now here, now grown. Before that , a husband , who it seems, developed some complexity, and left, but remained close. And complex.
And before that, she was a young woman, before and during the war, in England, working as a nurse after a wealthy upbringing.
Over the years, I learned the rich archive of her stories, her adventures, her catastrophic events. Her poetry, her psychic interludes.
I knew her from when she was in her mid seventies , until her late eighties, through hospitals and post-stroke rehab places and back home, sometimes with a broken phone and a walker and meals on wheels but not much more, and a terrible day bed mattress downstairs.
I'd call her children and talk and then kindly harass for more help and a new mattress and visiting nurses and all.
We talked about our dreams and friendships and lost love and gardens, laughed so much, and mused at how difficult it is to see clear to your own set up, calibrating and constructing your own life.
I suspect , as friends do, that she saw my own blind spots as well as I did hers, which is the way of it, isn't it?
Where we check in and listen and bewail and laugh and watch fondly one to the other, while we navigate this big open life.
And what's funny is that thoughts of her came to me this morning, while I was not consciously realizing that , because she was born on leap year, today would have been her birthday.
And before that, she was a young woman, before and during the war, in England, working as a nurse after a wealthy upbringing.
Over the years, I learned the rich archive of her stories, her adventures, her catastrophic events. Her poetry, her psychic interludes.
I knew her from when she was in her mid seventies , until her late eighties, through hospitals and post-stroke rehab places and back home, sometimes with a broken phone and a walker and meals on wheels but not much more, and a terrible day bed mattress downstairs.
I'd call her children and talk and then kindly harass for more help and a new mattress and visiting nurses and all.
We talked about our dreams and friendships and lost love and gardens, laughed so much, and mused at how difficult it is to see clear to your own set up, calibrating and constructing your own life.
I suspect , as friends do, that she saw my own blind spots as well as I did hers, which is the way of it, isn't it?
Where we check in and listen and bewail and laugh and watch fondly one to the other, while we navigate this big open life.
And what's funny is that thoughts of her came to me this morning, while I was not consciously realizing that , because she was born on leap year, today would have been her birthday.
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