From October to February

Dear Marjorie,

I knew we would be friends the instant you made me scream.

As you know, my husband and I recently left the security of our family, friends, and careers. We moved to this beautiful province to ensure our dream of a comfortable retirement not far down the road.

On our first day of arrival, Dave drove through our new neighborhood to his new job, met his new co-workers, and had meetings with new clients. While I walked through the empty rooms of our new house for hours waiting for the moving truck, I kept thinking there must be something here for me as well.

It wasn't something, but someone, it was you.

The second day I was on my knees in the ditch removing dead leaves from the drainage pipe under the driveway. While pushing away thoughts of finding anything else, I saw movement in the corner of my eye and heard a scream coming from my mouth.

When I turned to see what it was, I saw you.

There you were, hovering above me like a fairy godmother, looking down with a warm smile and supporting yourself with both hands on your staff of wisdom. Concerned I may have startled you, I got to my feet as quickly as able and brushed the dirt off my knees while apologizing for my reaction.

Once I gained my footing, I stood looking down at you, seeing both your posture and grin had held firm. I was comforted knowing your years of experience would have prepared you for anything, including an amusing encounter. Our first meeting, so sweet and cute, ended with an invitation to join you on your walks. I accepted your offer as I would a glass of water in a desert.

To my surprise, you walked every day!

You called me to confirm your ready time unless of bad weather, icy roads, family visiting, care aid working, out shopping, medical appointment or not feeling well. It was worth the wait because little did I know I was about to be put to school.

Now, in the third year of a pandemic, walking and talking with you became a vital source of nourishment for my psychological health. The admiration I have for your emotional and physical strength inspires my spirit to call upon those foggy days. You live alone yet have the energy and brightness of a star fuelled by all the elements of a loving family, caring friends, and a supportive community. I have woken up in the morning on days I felt sluggish with you in mind, wondering to myself, "How do does she do it?" The answer was you got on with it.

Happily, my days began to take shape into a routine. Every morning I served my husband his breakfast and made his lunch before sending him off to work with a kiss. The variety of my day came in the order in which I completed my chores with our walks fitting in after your phone call.

On the days you felt tired, it would take us sixty minutes to walk around a couple of blocks and, on a good day, it would take us sixty minutes to walk around a couple of blocks. Whether it was a good day or a bad day, every step you were sure of, if not, you reached out for support. You taught me the meaning of self-determination and self-acceptance.

Our route varied on the days you asked me to choose the direction. Either way, when you walked up Bulkley Street Hill, you had the stamina of a nineteen-year-old climbing up Mount Everest. On the days you walked down, you had the wisdom of a ninety-one-year-old who knew she must make it back home on her own two feet.

You decided for yourself to walk the hard road or the easy road. Being witness to this, despite offering my own opinion in thinking I knew better, I have learned that I am judge, jury, and accountable for my decisions and their consequences.

No matter who drove/biked/strolled past, what time it was, where we walked, when it was sunny or cloudy, how many times you stopped to catch your breath, I felt like I was escorting and protecting royalty. I witnessed many people pass us slowly with a wave, a smile and, expressing kind words. This respect only comes after having served your family and community for years.

I only felt your equal on the rare occasion a young driver would drive through the stop sign and pass too close to us, or too fast, before shouting in unison "Slow down!" I raised and lowered both arms like a speedometer needle going down from 70 to 50 km/hr on repeat while you raised your cane like Nanny McFee casting a spell as it dropped to the ground. As well as, trying to remember the license plate of a car after it drove through a stop sign because we forgot it by the time we got home.

Now, the intermittent Spring is in the air with warm winds, the smell of the earth, and sunny days filled with the song of migrating birds. I have made it through my first winter with your guidance. Whether it was a good day or a bad day, every step I took was increasingly sure of and, if not, I reached out for support.

You have been around the block many times. During the past three months, you shared your route, time, experience, and words of wisdom, as would a mentor. They are all gifts, intangible in their meaning and invaluable for a student preparing for what's to come down the road.

Thank you Marjorie for being your true self and helping me with my own.

Sincerely,

Love Rachel