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.

What is it?

Is life a game or a play or a poem or just a gift?

Sometimes it is all of those things blended together at once to me; at other times it is just one of those, but it is all I have -- this life (first or virtual).

Carla just lost her Dad and will likely lose her Mom soon, too. And she is trying to make lists now to be sure she doesn't forget anything while she sits a bit numb trying to look normal and competent. She wants to go home and take her two boys and be supported by her dear husband, but the costs are so high for them to fly together and they were, thankfully home just less than a year ago. So she will go alone and walk alone and she will survive this with others of her large and warm family.

Recently she grew concerned when I did not waken as usual -- at like 3AM -- to start my day, and did not answer my phone (had left it in another room). She sent me an email to me finally and I called her right away to thank her for her concern and to let her know I was simply exhausted. Our conversation was a rare one (nowadays everyone seems too busy for family, even for our meals together in the evening); and it was a very precious one because, for me it was the first time in ages I realised she would miss me as much as I would miss her if we weren't friends. And the big thought for me was: this is life and I will lose it one day.

All we have are those we love and who love us and ... how precious is that! And if we are wise we will make lists, and bustle about ticking things off. We will kiss and hug those we love as if we may never see them again -- each time.

For me, I will try to build into the lives of others and leave my legacy of words in their keeping. And perhaps, just perhaps some will miss me. Many won't remember me. But in this way I will have had a rich life from those who have touched me with their ideas and their energy and their faith and their love.

You know who you are!

True Friends

“A friend,” said John Milton, “is a person with whom I may be myself.” When I first heard that I got all choked up inside because in any world whether real or virtual there are few we find like that in our lifetimes.

My Dad used to tell me (who was reasonably popular in all my endeavours) that I would be rich if I had just five, real, true friends in my lifetime. Funny, he was so old to me when he shared that his wisdom seemed to be discounted by the number of wrinkles he had on his face.

Now that I have a couple of well-earned wrinkles (just a very few, very tiny laugh lines mind you) around my eyes….I can see how he was right. Wish he was still around for me to tell him thank you for sharing his wisdom with such a contrary daughter.

Carla

Today, my best friend, Carla, returned to the house after taking the boys to school to tell me her Dad had passed away last night (too late to wake the rest of the household). I was in the middle of five virtual conversations at the time. I sent quick messages to everyone and just closed them all down without waiting for a reply.

Real life ALWAYS comes first.

I went downstairs to hug her and just be with her in the kitchen as she lovingly, and like always, chose to make breakfast for us. I made the toast.

As I buttered each warm piece of the toasted rye bread, I thought of how difficult things have been for me lately in the virtual world and how sad it has been for me to lose friends I thought of as close family. Yet, here in our kitchen stood one of the best friends I have EVER had in my ENTIRE life and we hadn’t shared much in weeks -- as we both rushed around with out respective duties.

We live in Sydney and her family is almost all still living in Jamaica, so going home for her has been pretty much not even considered. Her Dad had had his stroke about five months ago and her Mom just had a stroke a few weeks ago and has been back in the hospital for the last week trying to stabilise. I am hoping she will go home, but we will see.

In the meantime it got me to thinking of how close I felt and had grown to a few specific people in the virtual world too; and how amazingly grateful we can be for good and authentic friendships wherever we find them.

My Dad never lived to imagine a virtual world, but if he had he would likely have to change his maxim to say something like: “If you can find five special friends in both the real world and in the virtual world in your lifetime, you are doubly blessed.”

In my profile one of the words I live by says: Live today as if you knew it was the last day of the rest of your life. If you do that, you will probably want to call or write or IM or hug a friend wherever you may find one. Because, you may never get another chance to do this – life just passes too quickly.