TURNING THE PAGE.

She called around 6 PM, and asked if I could pick her up. She sounded exhausted, and slightly desperate. She was waiting outside her door when I arrived; anxious, disoriented somewhat, and although warmly dressed, shivering with cold...or fatigue. She had nothing on her stomach except a cup of coffee from early morning, she told me. We loaded the few plants she was bringing with her into my truck, then she climbed into the passenger seat without looking back at the house. She had lived there for all of the 53 years since her arrival in this country.

The money from the sale had not yet been deposited into her account, in spite of the papers being signed at the notary a week ago. The new owner requested the key; he wanted to move in that day at 8 AM. On the advice of others, she had refused. Money first, she told him, but she was worried. Nothing had been smooth with the transaction; it was delay after delay, doubting the competence of her agent, the honesty of the purchaser and/or his notary, and now compounded with calls and dire predictions from those around her. Everyone, her ex-husband included, was waiting for the funds to take the next step in their own preparations. Because she had been the one to instigate the sale, and was the contact for the procedures involved, she was feeling guilty for the way things had happened; wondering if she had been too trusting in her lack of knowledge, unsure now if her decision had even been the right one, anxious how it was affecting everyone else.

The furniture had already been moved out a few days prior, and she had slept on the floor...for those few hours she had slept at all. This, together with sporadic eating and the continual stress, probably the age factor too (she’s 71), had taken its toll. No matter how strong her character, events had finally overwhelmed her; she was ready to fold.

“Hot food.” I said. “Then sleep. Things look much better when you’re rested. There is absolutely nothing you can do about anything tonight. And tomorrow we’ll see how it goes.”

She listened. She finished her meal, drank her tea, and was snuggled in bed by 8:00 PM. I dimmed the lights, leaving just enough that she could find her way downstairs if needed, then I stoked the fire and retired to my office, hoping that the quiet and peace in my house would prove refreshing.

It worked. She stayed over the next day and night, taking care of what was left to do by telephone. During this time we discussed her options, the money was deposited, her car was serviced, and she regained the energy required to turn the page. I assured her that she was welcome anytime she needed a break, because we all do now and then.

This lady has been there for me when I needed her. Her help had been indispensable when both my mom and my brother succumbed to cancer. She had offered her services willingly and without expecting anything in return. I only wished I could do more for her now.

We hugged as she left; a strong warm hug between loyal friends.

‘You’ve got my number.” I reminded her. She motioned to her car.

“Somewhere there. In with all my other papers.” she replied, alluding to her faulty memory of late. “But it doesn’t matter. I know where you live.”

Of course! Nothing more needed to be said. When she waved goodbye, we were both SMILING.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.