My friend Pat took me out to lunch today at an Italian restaurant in London. We talked and talked, looking both at the pains and joys of life. I am truly blessed to have many such friends, people who love me and allow me to say just what I need to say. They listen and accept.
Earlier, I drove into London to see my doctor. Julie is another one of those marvelous friends.
And then there were the two hours between. I knew that I wanted to be around people, even if I didn’t know any of them. So I went to my favourite branch library, an intimate space with a huge snow-covered skylight. People milled around the shelves, picking out treasures. A mom and her son were having an animated discussion in the kids’ section. Older gentlemen were sitting in plush chairs, absorbing the daily newspaper. Another older gentleman (me!) sat on a comfy couch and pulled out my book. I enjoyed watching the symphony of humanity between paragraphs.
And then there was the woman returning patrons’ books to their spots on the shelves. She walked stiffly and had a concerned look on her face. Her clothes were not fashionable. And I knew she was mine. I knew that today I was going to make a contribution to her life … I just didn’t know how.
I needed to take my medication and I didn’t know if there was a water fountain in the library. So I walked up to my pre-friend and asked. No, there wasn’t. She suggested I approach one of the staff members at the desk. “They know more.” The woman seemed really nervous.
Eventually, I discovered that there was a fountain in the food court, so the med got swallowed. As I returned to the library, I saw my friend shoving a book into Adult Non-Fiction. I turned down her aisle and smiled. “Thank you for helping me. I found a water fountain by the food court.” And I received an absolutely brilliant smile in return. “You’re welcome.”
Enough done. Enough said.