EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE Sisters by Heart - Partners in Aging Published in 2001, ISBN 0-9657894-3-8, $14.95 MAKING FRIENDS WITH THE AVON LADY A CHANCE MEETING As I knelt on the bathroom floor carrying out my weekly devotions to toilet bowl cleaning, I heard the unmistakable sound of tires rolling up the gravel lane to my cabin. The business-like slam of the car door told me instantly it was no one I knew. I groaned to my feet and peered out the window to see who had happened on my woodland hideaway. There was talk in the village about an Avon Lady cruising around town and I said to myself, “Damn! It’s her; way out here too. What nerve.” The tall, slim, angular figure approached the front steps. I muttered again, “Gawd. She’s a piss-poor ad for beauty products.” Then seeing her determined expression and the deep furrow between her eyes I made a quick reassessment: “I was right the first time. Piss-poor looks for Avon; probably sells encyclopedias.” When I opened the door I received no ESP that my life would change forever once this woman crossed my threshold. She was to become the Gibraltar in my life, my partner and cohort in over twenty years-worth of challenges that would reverse the sand in the hour glass. Although our chronological ages would stubbornly advance, with each new adventure we shed more of the “fear of trying” until ultimately our minds and bodies fed on – and drew vigor from – our endeavors. Kay introduced herself. Her firm handshake further distanced her from Avon country. “I’m looking for Marion Brackett,” she said. “I understand she works for you as an au pair.” When I told her Marion had moved back to Massachusetts, Kay appeared extremely disappointed. She continued, “I wanted to tell her in person about the death of a mutual friend who taught with me at UNH. Their acquaintance went back many years to college days.” I thought to myself, this person is an academic, not selling encyclopedias or Avon. When it was my turn, I told Kay my children no longer needed an au pair. Amey was thirteen and away at summer camp. Josh, sixteen, was at his job across the lake at the hotdog stand. I told her the cabin was my summer getaway from our home in the hot city of Keene where I worked and the kids went to school. “You drove all the way over here from Durham just to find Marion?” “I tried to reach you by telephone but you’re unlisted. Marion didn’t even know this person was ill. I thought it would be kinder to tell her in person. Anyway, it’s a beautiful day for a drive.” “Well, at least I can give you lunch. It’s just a cold meat loaf sandwich. I live pretty simply: tight budget and not many extras in the fridge. We ate on the deck overlooking the forest of trees that separated my little house from Laurel Lake. I enjoyed my quiet life as much for the peace as to preserve the magic and tranquility of the woods. The birds, chipmunks and squirrels showed off more than usual as they ran up and down trees or chased one another through the gardens and ferns. Even the hummingbird couple bustled in to visit their red feeder. The sun peeked through the leaves and dappled in splotches on the deck. A sudden breeze carried the leafy pattern across Kay’s face and reflected in her eyeglasses. Totally unaware of elapsing time, I found myself sharing with this woman how I came to be where and what I was. She asked intermittent questions in a comfortable tone that turned on my magpie mode and I rattled on. A FRIENDSHIP RISES Kay listened and laughed as I regaled her with stories of my innkeeping days at the Fitzwilliam Inn. It was then I noticed how laughing and smiling changed this serious, unadorned woman. As her eyes wrinkled in laughter, the furrow that lived between them was suddenly less pronounced as her forehead became involved in the facial changes a touch of humor brought about. The softening relaxed her entire demeanor and in turn had the same effect on me. Kay’s visit to the lake that day was well over twenty years ago but I can still recall feeling a special bond would grow out of that chance meeting. We had begun to weave the fabric of our friendship. Regretfully the lake house is no longer a part of our lives although it remained the focal point of our relationship for over a decade. Now, on nights when I am unable to sleep, I take myself back to that Eden, re-trace the gravel road up to the house until once more I’m on the deck where I sat that first afternoon and watched the taillights on her car disappear around the bend. In retrospect I thought about the eagerness with which I told her my amusing stories while, like Peter Pan, I kept the shadows of my past folded in my pocket. I was over fifty and trying to get a life together that gave no hint of self-pity but was centered on all things positive. There were already many plusses: family, home and career being the top three. Still, I lacked the adult companionship but knew a third marriage was not the answer. Labor Day brought the dreaded move back to Keene. Although I would continue to make weekend trips to the cabin well into fall, the departure from full-time life in the woods was a sad transition. Kay made several return trips to the lake. I would have said I had known her much longer than a few months as we explored the commonalities in our thinking, widely interspersed among the vast differences in our backgrounds. She had already worked her way into my thoughts and I was surprised how readily I sought her advice on household and financial matters. She recognized my need for independence but at the same time gave off the subliminal message of support and genuine caring for me and my family. Women had been a lifeline in the past but I was aware Kay possessed a degree of strength I had heretofore not experienced.

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