never in a million years
On a rainy spring afternoon 15 years ago, Kate and I walked down the Downing Street steps of my dear friend Susan’s home for the last time. She was moving thousands of miles away, much to her regret. I was embarking on a newly-single life, much to mine. And why, having found in each other a writer/confidante/bad-dog/sister we had to do this was wholly beyond our understanding.
One night this past week, I walked into the deliciously funky Moss Fire restaurant less than a block from Dmitri and Kate’s new home and there waiting, as I knew she would be, was Susan. And her oh-so-yummy guy Pietro. Yes, in a twist of geographic fate, my kids and my friend now reside in the same city and about 15 minutes apart.
A couple days later, Susan and I would chow down on southern fried chicken and then hang out with her mom Louise at one of the most beautiful memory care facilities I could imagine. Watching an ibis named Edwin and a couple of mute swans on placid water and soaking in each other’s being.
How, in the world, did this happen? What didn’t we understand? What couldn’t we see? Somehow, we assumed (yeah, I know the joke, it’s not that funny) that things wouldn’t be as good as they were before. But reality is 180 degrees…it’s positive, interactive, creative.
Whadda I know?