Torn Paper

A fire in the belly

Leola

It had been a long drive from Chico to Menlo in the rain. We were cold, we were hungry and the realtor had failed to meet us with the key. How did we manage before cell phones? I went next door. Maybe we could at least heat the baby's bottle and change her.

When Leola answered the door, she knew me on sight.

Angela!

It had been thirty five years since she was our neighbor on Menlo Avenue. She was Barbara's Mom. I was eight when they moved away. Yet she knew me and we were to be neighbors again. I had no idea at that moment what that would mean to me.

We exchanged pleasantries at the mail box, recalling the kids on the block and St. Joseph Elementary. Back then, I was juggling work with visiting Mom at her retirement community and sharing living space with three children and a grand daughter. I was busy.

After I moved away, I went back to visit Leola often. We went to lunch, and did errands. Her sight was failing and I made out her checks and did various little chores around the house. This was all incidental to our conversations.

What I learned from those conversations was awesome.

To be continued...