Remember ?

When I was in Uni, I found an apartment to share with a lady. She had put the most delightful ad in the paper. It said:

“Looking for roommate
to share two-bedroom apartment.
Must love dogs, horses and God.
Not necessarily in that order.”

I couldn’t wait to call her and we hit it right off and I soon moved in. Well, all I had was a couple of suitcases, a milk crate, a little lamp, a mat and loads of books. In fact, all through my time in Uni, I did not have a bed!

A Sister!

After I found this wonderful apartment (on the third floor of a modern building with a huge swimming pool in the middle of the complex – that was thankfully open 24-hours a day for me), I thought I was the most fortunate woman ever. The lady, Susanna Furbay, and I got along like real sisters (neither of us had a sister, so we just made it up as we went along as to what that meant.)

She was the only woman I have ever known who could actually burn water, so I did all the cooking! She was a genius at rearranging our few pieces of furniture and in arranging grand parties for everyone we could think of – so they would bring us food. What a life it was!

Busy Life!

I worked a full-time job in the University hospital radiology department from 2PM to 10PM, Wednesdays through Sundays and every holiday shift. I also worked three nights (Thursday, Friday and Saturday after 10 PM) singing torch songs with my wonderful guitarist, Jerry Gerard. We entertained regularly at two different piano bars.

All the time left, I was either in the music lounge listening to classical music, struggling to learn Chinese calligraphy or trying to finish my studies (yes I did study somehow in between all the other things I did) or sleeping. I was tired often!

Anyway, I slept on my too-thin mat on the floor, surrounded by my books lined up alphabetically in specialty areas all around the walls. My little lamp sat on the milk crate beside my mat. After I would turn off the light, I would listen to the guitar music.

Personal Serenade

You see, the man who lived under us (his name was Hank), had his bedroom right under mine. And every night he would play his guitar (and very well) and I would fall asleep listening to him play.

Well every night, except any night when it was raining.

When It Rained

I had the most amazing habit (would do it still if I could get by with it) of going for long walks in the rain. The harder it rained the better for me. I just loved the feeling of the rain drops pelting my skin and soaking through all my clothes, until I could feel the silkiness of my skin against the fabric of my clothes and the Goosebumps that would rise when the wind blew hard against me.

I would walk until I was completely exhausted; all the while reviewing the day or some studies, think about life and cabbages and kings. When I could walk no longer, I would stumble back home and up the three, seemingly longer and steeper flights of stairs.

I would quietly open the door and head for the bathroom, strip off all my clothes, dry off, pull on my, what now seemed to be, toasty nightshirt and crawl into my little make-shift bed. I would almost instantly fall into a deep and restful sleep. I loved it. But I always missed my personal serenade.

Stalker or Sentinel?

I never knew that every night when I went walking in the rain, the guitar music stopped. Why you ask? Well it stopped because Hank always listened for my movements. And he had learned of my habit of walking in the rain.

Any time it was raining, he would listen closely for the sounds of my getting up and leaving. Every time I went out, he would follow me. Quietly and quickly he would dress and would silently and stealthily walk down the steps and out the big wooden doors into the driving rain. Walking far enough back I never even knew he was there.

Then one night, the rain and wind was so strong that I slipped and fell. As I lay there trying to recover, he was beside me, holding me and telling me it was all going to be alright.

He helped me home and confessed how he always walked with me because he was concerned for my safety. Needless to say, we became great and lasting friends. And it was always easier to walk together in the rain from then on.

Unseen & Unappreciated Friends

Sometimes we have friends who are walking with us that we never see -- and if we do think we see them -- we may never realise how very special and protective and loving they are – how understanding they are of us, just watching and listening from afar. How they are watching and helping in ways we can never understand or fully appreciate.

This seems strikingly true of the virtual world. Real friends (even some who can become real world friends) are there if you only open your eyes to them. When you find them, you must cherish them because you may one day stumble and fall and they will be there to help when you are hurting and afraid and confused and have no idea what to do or say or which way to turn.

Friends like that are just too valuable!

Thank you my secret friends for your watchfulness over me – as sentinels you stand with me even though I rarely see you. I will never be able to appreciate each one of you enough. However, this very poor, carte blanche expression of my heart-felt gratefulness is my humble tribute to your care and love.

Please accept this Sheridanne special, too-long, 90-second hug until I can find a way to do better.