I met her when she was just out of college and eager to find her calling. She and I both landed a job at a local school and begun a most unlikely friendship; her young enough to be my daughter, neither of us considering that a barrier. I would visit her in her art classroom and she would visit me in wherever I happened to be in my various roles and we’d share laughs that brought tears to our eyes, disappointments that brought tears to our heart.
One day she brought me a painting she’d made of a palm tree; one of the meanings of my name. “Kids come to you every day. You are like a palm tree for them to sit under. I made this for you.” I ran out of words for a minute until I found a pitiful “thank you” and I hugged her for seeing me.
Life moved on and so did each of us. We both took different forks in the road but remained in touch. This past month we decided that the distance of 26 miles between ourselves had become too long and I got in my car and drove to her delicious Victorian home, complete with a handy, hard working construction man husband and 3 boys. They are renovating and currently decorating with tools and step ladders amongst original tin ceilings and glorious chandeliers and hard wood floors. They are on their way to making a masterpiece.
I helped myself to a cup of coffee in the perfect mug and sat and talked to Patton about his train model he was working on with his mom. Bethany sat down in front of me. “Who would have thought?” I said to her as I looked into her face. She was the one who couldn’t imagine staying at home full time. And now, she can’t imagine not being home. “I’m loving this!” she beamed back at me. My heart beat happy for her.
She led me up to the laundry room, itself a work of beauty, and taught me her “recipe” for making her own detergent. I loved it. In this Victorian setting, grating Fels Naptha soap into her concoction, I almost felt like we should have our hair piled up on our heads and long dresses. It felt like the diaries I’ve read in books about woman in the 1800’s, helping one another in the daily chores as a way to keep company. Her 160+ year old house gave me all the feels of imagining the days gone by, a woman scurrying around in the middle of the bustling town of Foster, Kentucky.
In its’ day, Foster was *the* place to be in the area. Legend has it that Bethany’s house included a music hall in their now living room, complete with a cut out area where the musicians sat and played into the night. Today, Foster is a quiet reminder of what used to be. Some of the buildings have long since given up. Bethany’s house, however, stands like a still reigning queen dressed in her blue regalia, her face to the wind in proud resolve.
As I drove away from my friends’ home today I felt a warm ember inside. We had taken the time for each other, shared our everyday life together. We made plans to fold my grandson into the next visit to play with her boys. I was glad to see my friend today.