I smile as I think about one of my senior friends, Marlene, driving her car toward our favourite coffee-house. She’ll be speeding just a little—not as much as she used to, though. I’m already sitting at our favourite table, with my cup of black, no sugar, no cream, in front of me. I’ve been waiting for a few minutes, and take out my iphone to check the time. I’ve already done this twice. It’s not like her to be late. I take my coffee to a window, and stand there, so I can see her car approach. If only she had a cell phone, I fuss, I’d phone her and know her progress. I’ve already phoned her home, and she wasn’t there. I’ll wait a few more minutes and then leave, I decide, assuming she has forgotten. My mind wanders back to the last time I saw her. She was wearing a new blue summer jacket, I remember. It looked good on her. Summer, I realize with a jolt—it’s been months since we met up for coffee!
Just then, I see her big old Cadillac swing into view and slow down as she looks for a parking spot. When she appears on the sidewalk, bundled against the wind, huge handbag clutched to her side, I allow myself a little sigh of relief. As usual, she times her entrance so that someone can open the door for her, and when a young man does just that, I see her engage him in a few words. Just like Marlene, I smile, never one to be ignored. As always, she goes right into the lineup to buy her medium black, no sugar, three cream. I stand up to hug her, and we are finally settled down for our visit.
“Marlene, it’s so wonderful to see you!” I say, and I mean it.
“You too, Diane. I was so happy to get your call. You know, you can call me anytime. I can always rearrange my coffee dates around you. I know you are busier than any of us.”
“Yes, I am busy. But there’s no reason to leave it so long. I just get carried away, and before I know it, weeks have gone by! But how are you? You look so good.”
I see the love in her eyes, as she touches my arm, “I’m okay. My health is good. But I’ve been sad.”
She pauses to compose herself, and I wait, a lump in my throat. It must be bad, for Marlene to admit this—sadness, of all things.
“Its Betsy,” she finally says, “She died.” Betsy is her sister, I know, and her only remaining relative. I can’t find the right words. the lump in my throat settles in, and I get up and move my chair so we are sitting side by side. We stay there for a while, taking up the choice chairs in the premier corner, not caring as the other customers swirl around us and settle in irritation for the center tables and the counter.
“There’s nothing I can do or say to make you feel better,” I say. “You just have to let time pass. It might take months, or longer, maybe.”
“I know,” she says, “Time will heal this. It usually does.”
I move closer, and put my arm around her shoulder. We sit some more. Finally she makes a move to collect her handbag, and gets up. As we both move toward the door, she stops and looks me square in my face.
“Don’t think it didn’t help,” she says. “To see you, I mean. Just to hear you say what I already know—that I have to let time pass. It helped. It helped me a lot.”
I walk her to her car and see her inside. I never do this. Usually she rushes to her car and tears off in a hurry to her next appointment or meet-up.
“Call me,” she says, “Any time you have a minute. I’ll come to a coffee shop closer to your condo if you don’t feel like driving all the way here.”
“I will,” I say, and I really mean it.
“But just a minute,” I stop her, as she places the key in the ignition, “I have a quick question. What did you say to the young man who opened the door for you when you came in?”
“I told him he had the nicest blue eyes I ever saw.” she answers, and we both laugh, just like old times.
I hope this story is true. Good for Marlene. Never stop flirting.
Trust me, Bernadette, it’s true.
What a lovely post! At first I thought of my friend Susan, whom I meet at a local coffee house monthly but as I read on, iI realized this was about something deeper: how our empathy for friends deepens as we get older and realize we are all connected on a visceral and spiritual lesson. Love how you lighten the mood a bit with your delightful last sentence!
As usual, Virginia, you got to the nub of this story, and took it even further! You must have been a killer student in English class!
A gentle reminder that it is time to connect with those who mean so much and we see so little of. Thank you for this story.
Hi Ann. I’ve just had a look at your blog. It’s stunning! Congratulations on starting one, and good luck with your writing. I’ll visit it regularly.
I think that it was easier to watch one’s wrist watch every few seconds while waiting than the cumbersome mobile telephones all of us seem to use now instead of the good old ww. There is a story waiting to be told there and I think that I will do just that over in my blog.
I would love to be the doorman for ladies who will compliment me on my eyes or anything else for that matter,
Well, girls will be girls, Rummuser. Thanks for reading!
Good for you for keeping in touch. I notice that you seem to be the one doing the phoning. Bless you.
Keeping in touch with old friends takes a little work as we age. There seem to be fewer hours in the day lately. Or is it just me? Thanks, Jean.
A beautiful post. If it’s true, you have a lovely friend.
Thank you for this comment, Virginia. I’ve been away from my page, and missed it!
Very sweet story. Having good friends, at any stage in life, is a key to happiness.
Thanks. Old friends are the best friends, I think. But it does take an effort to keep in touch, as we age. I’m amazed how it takes so much longer to accomplish all of the things I used to just rush through, leaving less time for friends these days.
For your generation it is an increasingly sad time of life as you start to lose those you love at an increasing rate and each one doesn’t make the next any easier to bear. I see it happening with my Mum. Your friendship with Marlene is important to you both and being able to talk with friends, laugh, be walked to the car, fills you with a sense that you are not alone. A friend that goes way back and I have vowed that we will meet monthly for at least a coffee if not lunch. The effort is great as we live 75 kms apart and she still does shift work at the hospital and I am just busy, busy but I am glad we make that effort. Especially so after reading your post. Hugs to you and to Marlene from across the ocean.
That is wonderful to know. So glad to hear the empathy in your comment. What you write is so true!
Hello, I look forward to reading your blog, thanks for reading mine, “The Collected Wisdom”, and what fun, to be neighbors! Cheers.
Glad to hear from you. I’ll visit you again next post!
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