| Home / College Guide / MAKE NEW FRIENDS, KEEP THE OLD, ONE IS SILVER AND THE OTHER IS GOLD |
| Posted on Wednesday, May 08 @ 00:00:04 PDT |
I am sitting in the living room of the house in Lanigan where we lived for thirty years. We raised two sons within these walls and memories are almost suffocating. The only things remaining that were mine are the sofa, loveseat, coffee table and a small scattering of cabinets. The wall of shelves that contained all my books – like a myriad of friendly soldiers standing guard shoulder to shoulder, is gone. That wall is bare other than a beautiful large metal configuration that my son designed, as is his trade – fabricating, welding stainless steel into intricate art. I take the few steps up into what was once his bedroom, but converted into an office when he left home for college. Now he owns the entire house. I have stepped into a time warp. A calendar on the wall was banished to August 1997. The old desktop computer, Windows 98, rests atop the desk, keyboard and printer faithfully nearby. My wire-frame reading glasses are still sitting where I left them. I am remembering all the happy emails I typed on that keyboard, as well as the graphic work I did for many people. I called my little business, “Arlene’s Computer Works.” Catchy, huh?
The bedroom where Southpaw and I slept through thirty years still has the same comfy bed, but the closet is empty, but for a few pieces hanging motionless and outdated.
The only furniture we didn’t take when we moved to the farm linger comatose, touched only by our son’s dusting cloth: a night table and oval floor mirror standing. The reflection in it slightly altered and aged.
The bathroom where I enjoyed many a long soak with fragrant bubbles has lost its blue wallpaper. True to his craft, the entire bathroom is smartly tiled, stem to stern. I miss it. I miss the younger me that enjoyed those times.
Returning to the living room, I realize how tired I am and curl up on the sofa. I was up earlier than usual and tagged with Randy to Lanigan where our son, Ross, was setting up his steel sculptures at the trade show across the street. I am remembering the hugs. I’d barely walked in and suddenly voices were calling my name. It felt like a homecoming being greeted with open arms and warm smiles from familiar faces of old friends and neighbours. A reunion of souls intertwined by years of shared memories and laughter. Each hug, each hello, filled my heart with a sense of belonging and gratitude.
While standing beside Ross at his booth of recycled old barbeques, stainless steel sinks and rusty old farm equipment transformed into tall metal flowers, I watched as people passed by.
Many stopped to chat and purchase, admiring and curious about his sculptures. For a while I people watched. Since my stroke I tire easily and don’t attend many public activities, but this one in my old stomping grounds was different. I wished I could have stayed longer to meet yet to come old friends, but I was tired and walked back to the welcoming of our former home.
Today finds me here, when once upon a time in Lanigan this house was new and echoed with the joy and shouts of two growing boys and their friends. And this moment in time, deliberating all the hugs and warmth and dear people who still call this mining town, home sweet home.
I saw many folks milling about, and a few, their eyes fixed straight ahead consciously avoiding familiar vendor encounters. It made me wonder— what compels some to acknowledge old friends with open arms, while others choose to simply pass by? Pondering that, I smiled, realizing, I too, have been guilty in similar circumstances, by just walking on.
Gazing through the partially closed blinds across the street of the familiar cul-de-sac, I was seeing again those who once called the church manse, home – come and gone but not forgotten. I had dubbed them, “My special Lutherans”.
Once again, today, I stood in the entryway to that same home. I chatted with the sweet couple occupying it now. I’ve been told they both relish my words in this newspaper and have been so kind and generous to “Ross’s mom!” Their eagerness to meet me, spoke volumes about their warmth and kind heartedness.
When Randy and I left Lanigan passing fields waiting to be planted and the sights of our little piece of prairie, what mattered most was the overwhelming affection and love shared again with sweet friends and neighbours. My heart is full, grateful for the cherished memories and the enduring bonds that unite us all. An old Irish proverb expresses what I am feeling, “It is in the shelter of each other that the people live.”
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