I first met C in 1980. I was fighting my way through a bitter divorce and she was in the last stages of her pregnancy, new to Canada and a long way from South Dakota. Her husband was employed in the oilfields, and was away a lot. We met over coffee with her next door neighbour, a good friend of mine, and it quickly became apparent that we had a lot in common and weekends would see us at one or the others house, watching movies, talking (we had so much to talk about, it was amazing) and just hanging about. One cold winter night, having watched a movie until late, I started my car to return home. At 2 in the morning with only a couple blocks to go, it hardly seemed worthwhile to scrape the windows. After all, I could see through the little space clearing at the bottom of the windshield. Apparently I couldn’t see well enough though, as was proved when I mistook a cleared sidewalk for the ice covered road and turned onto it, twisting the stop sign upright into an L shape and sending the street name X sailing high into the air, all of which I could see though the back window which the car had managed to clear. Perhaps I should have been driving in reverse, but I finished making it home and called C, who swore that if she was ever asked, I had been in my own home all night. And laughed. A lot.
Eventually I found a little house in the countryside and moved further away and she finally delivered that precious daughter, but we still continued to drive back and forth to visit. After all, it was only a half hour drive now. When her second daughter began to consider entering the world she called at 10 in the evening – things seemed to be starting and hubby would not be able to get back until the next day – would I come? Was there any doubt? The nurse at the hospital said it would be some time as it was intermittent and not regular, so C refused to stay. After all, the coffee at home was better than the hospital brew. So we sat up all night cause she couldn’t sleep and the next morning hubby arrived on time. I went straight to work and had a very long day that was capped with the phone call from her hubby that they had another daughter.
Eventually work required them to move and now she was over two hours away. But still, we called at least once a week and took turns driving back and forth for occasional visits. She came for the weekend of my birthday in 1985, full of plans for where we were going on Friday night. C was the outgoing friendly one to whom everyone gravitated and I was the quiet shy friend. We never made it past our first stop and that was the night I met my husband to be. In 1987 C stood beside me as I wed. Then came my first pregnancy and with her life in that new town and my new life, we weren’t talking as often, and with new people in our lives, we didn’t have as much, it seemed, to talk about. But although the time between calls kept lengthening, I knew were she was and could still manage an occasional call.
This week, I was cleaning out a closet and in the bottom of a box of clothes I found a sweater. It was one I had worn the night I met my husband. With yesterday on my mind, I realized that I had not spoken to C for a couple years now. So I looked up the number and called. The lady who answered said I had the wrong number. How long is a number held before it is reused? So I called 411 for the new listing, but there is no listing for C anymore. They are gone. Perhaps back to the US, but it could be anywhere, considering the type of work her husband does. And despite the fact that it had been so long since we talked, I feel I have lost something. I know I have lost something.
People come and go in our lives all the time. Perhaps it was just a natural ending. So our lives move on. I hope, C, that things all worked out for you, and your children did go into the fields they were headed for. I hope someday you find a reminder and check to see if my number is still listed. I hope I am still here if you call. If you do, I will set aside any weekend you want. But most of all, I hope you are well and happy.
# posted by Surveysez @ 8:24 AM
