A STORY

So, Helen made it driving the 900 KM from NB by herself. Unfortunately my smile wasn’t the first thing she saw coming into the house; I was at the hospital getting a scan by the time she arrived. It seemed to me she was overdue, and I was getting worried, so I hurried home when the docs were finished. I was relieved to find her curled up on her bed, soundly sleeping. I sent an ‘All’s clear’ to her daughter, who had been texting off and on all day, also anxious about her mom’s safety. They talked to each other this morning, and it was agreed that a couple of week’s vacation here will be good.

It is great to see her again. There wasn’t much chatting last night; we both were tired, but we made up for it today. I can tell that Helen did a lot of thinking during her 10 hour drive, and she’s making good decisions. I’m very proud of my friend.

This lady has lived an eventful life, from her childhood in a convent during post-war Germany to her arrival here as a teenage boat bride, without family or the language, and marrying a stranger who had portrayed himself in his advertisement and subsequent letters very different from what he actually was. It has been far from easy, and she has come out of it all, able to remember the bad without being bitter, and the good with a grin on her face. There is potential for a fascinating human interest novel, don’t you think?

She has suggested that I write her story. During this stay, she will talk, and I will take notes. Having agreed that it be done, we toasted the idea, and resolved than if any money is made from this joint venture, it would be equally divided.

“Do we have to change the names to protect the innocent?” she laughed. I remembered the reviews I once read for a movie about a young female German activist.*

“How do you feel about being called Sophie?” I asked.

She repeated it, giving it the German pronunciation, then she nodded, and we both SMILED.

*Sophie Scholl: The Final Days

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.