Soul sister where you least expect
So if you don't know by now, I've moved by to the town where my now-fiance (eek!) lives. I blame the move and the new job for my lack of words on this here blog. And to my readers— you know, all five of you— I apologize. But I can't go on talking about my new life without telling this story. It inspired and surprised me when it happened, and I've been meaning to tell you.
I have this friend in the town I used to work in. She's kind, gentle and is concerned about her future, much like me. I can go a whole year without seeing her, but we hit it off at our next meeting like it's nothing. Oddly enough, she's 45 years older than me. Let me explain.
Carol and I met about six months after I moved to Illinois. She was the "newcomer lady." She owned her own business in the town I used to live in for more than 20 years that involved her welcoming "newcomers" to the neighborhood with a gift basket filled with goodies from local businesses. She was also a part-time nurse at a nursing home before she retired this summer.
She read my column in the newspaper I wrote for and sought me out to give me a basket. And we hit it off right away. I ended up writing a story about her (not surprising, huh?). After the story, we met up one time for lunch. And then, being the social butterfly she is, I would bump into her every few months when I covered social gatherings for the newspaper.
She's thin, drives a minivan and keeps her hair its natural color white. She doesn't try to look younger than she is, but her cheerful demeanor expels a youthful glow when she smiles that is not common in women pushing 70. She keeps a photo of her cat on her cell phone. And she texts, too.
Her husband died a few years ago. The only time I can see her age is when she talks about him because she gets a very sad look— like she's searching through time for his face, laugh and smell. I don't ask about that subject.
She and I met for supper in late October, after I got the new job and only had a week left at my old job. It was more than a year since I met her for lunch, but only a few months since I last spoke with her since she attended a city-wide picnic I covered. I shared the story of my engagement with her (see below if you missed it. It's a good one!), showing her photos on my cell phone. I told her about my new job and lack of wedding-planning. She told me about her son, her recent retirement and her new kitten.
Then the subject turned serious. She said she was considering moving closer to her son or brother. In Illinois, she is completely away from her close family. And at 69, she's concerned about her future. Now that she's retired, she wants to move somewhere where she can enjoy her time. And more importantly, she wants to make this decision while she still can— before it's too late.
"In 11 years, I'll be 80," she told me during our two-and-a-half hour dinner. "I mean my God, 80. I don't feel 11 years away from 80."
That's when I realized, her perception of 11 years is so far away from my perception of 11 years. Eleven years ago, I was practically HALF my age. Eleven years from now, my life will be much different from it is now— still married with hopefully (God bless) children. I have no idea where I will be or what I will be doing. During the next 11 years will be the start of my adult life.
But for her, 11 years from now will be the start of the end of her life, and she knows it. The woman moves very well, can drive, doesn't wear glasses and is a quiet charismatic, but she knows that 11 years from now she won't be the same. Considering the rate she's going, she most likely won't be in poor health, but she's worried about her mobility and her mind. She's lived through six 11-year periods. I barely reached two.
She asked me, in the most sincere and wide eyes, if I thought she was making the right decision to move closer to her family. We weighed the pros and cons. I stressed how smart I thought it was for her to be making this decision for herself. My mom worked as a home health nurse, and I've seen how families think they're doing the best for their loved one when in fact they're making it worse. She is a smart lady and will do what is best.
Her son lives in California, but it's too expensive to live there. A plus is that she could spend more time with her grandchildren, but she admitted that she doesn't live for her grandchildren like other women her age do— she has her own life. We settled on Her brother who lives in Iowa where his grown children are.
So anyhoo, walking away from that dinner, I was amazed at how easy it was to talk to her and how meaningful it was to share stories with her. She never, ever, offers me advice I don't ask for. She never makes me feel as though I'm a child (although, we're more of the age range of a grandmother and granddaughter. But my grandmother is more than 14 years older than she is, so she can be like my cool great-aunt.) We listen to each other. We laugh with each other. And we communicate honestly and openly— which is hard to come by no matter the age.
It really doesn't matter how old you are or when you find each other. Your soul sister/brother is out there. You may have already found her, or you might have a dozen. The point is that it's never to late to connect with someone. Because that, my friends, is what life is meant for— impacting others, and hopefully letting others inspire you.
I have this friend in the town I used to work in. She's kind, gentle and is concerned about her future, much like me. I can go a whole year without seeing her, but we hit it off at our next meeting like it's nothing. Oddly enough, she's 45 years older than me. Let me explain.
Carol and I met about six months after I moved to Illinois. She was the "newcomer lady." She owned her own business in the town I used to live in for more than 20 years that involved her welcoming "newcomers" to the neighborhood with a gift basket filled with goodies from local businesses. She was also a part-time nurse at a nursing home before she retired this summer.
She read my column in the newspaper I wrote for and sought me out to give me a basket. And we hit it off right away. I ended up writing a story about her (not surprising, huh?). After the story, we met up one time for lunch. And then, being the social butterfly she is, I would bump into her every few months when I covered social gatherings for the newspaper.
She's thin, drives a minivan and keeps her hair its natural color white. She doesn't try to look younger than she is, but her cheerful demeanor expels a youthful glow when she smiles that is not common in women pushing 70. She keeps a photo of her cat on her cell phone. And she texts, too.
Her husband died a few years ago. The only time I can see her age is when she talks about him because she gets a very sad look— like she's searching through time for his face, laugh and smell. I don't ask about that subject.
She and I met for supper in late October, after I got the new job and only had a week left at my old job. It was more than a year since I met her for lunch, but only a few months since I last spoke with her since she attended a city-wide picnic I covered. I shared the story of my engagement with her (see below if you missed it. It's a good one!), showing her photos on my cell phone. I told her about my new job and lack of wedding-planning. She told me about her son, her recent retirement and her new kitten.
Then the subject turned serious. She said she was considering moving closer to her son or brother. In Illinois, she is completely away from her close family. And at 69, she's concerned about her future. Now that she's retired, she wants to move somewhere where she can enjoy her time. And more importantly, she wants to make this decision while she still can— before it's too late.
"In 11 years, I'll be 80," she told me during our two-and-a-half hour dinner. "I mean my God, 80. I don't feel 11 years away from 80."
That's when I realized, her perception of 11 years is so far away from my perception of 11 years. Eleven years ago, I was practically HALF my age. Eleven years from now, my life will be much different from it is now— still married with hopefully (God bless) children. I have no idea where I will be or what I will be doing. During the next 11 years will be the start of my adult life.
But for her, 11 years from now will be the start of the end of her life, and she knows it. The woman moves very well, can drive, doesn't wear glasses and is a quiet charismatic, but she knows that 11 years from now she won't be the same. Considering the rate she's going, she most likely won't be in poor health, but she's worried about her mobility and her mind. She's lived through six 11-year periods. I barely reached two.
She asked me, in the most sincere and wide eyes, if I thought she was making the right decision to move closer to her family. We weighed the pros and cons. I stressed how smart I thought it was for her to be making this decision for herself. My mom worked as a home health nurse, and I've seen how families think they're doing the best for their loved one when in fact they're making it worse. She is a smart lady and will do what is best.
Her son lives in California, but it's too expensive to live there. A plus is that she could spend more time with her grandchildren, but she admitted that she doesn't live for her grandchildren like other women her age do— she has her own life. We settled on Her brother who lives in Iowa where his grown children are.
So anyhoo, walking away from that dinner, I was amazed at how easy it was to talk to her and how meaningful it was to share stories with her. She never, ever, offers me advice I don't ask for. She never makes me feel as though I'm a child (although, we're more of the age range of a grandmother and granddaughter. But my grandmother is more than 14 years older than she is, so she can be like my cool great-aunt.) We listen to each other. We laugh with each other. And we communicate honestly and openly— which is hard to come by no matter the age.
It really doesn't matter how old you are or when you find each other. Your soul sister/brother is out there. You may have already found her, or you might have a dozen. The point is that it's never to late to connect with someone. Because that, my friends, is what life is meant for— impacting others, and hopefully letting others inspire you.
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