2010
Millie had
completely lost track of time as she sat reliving her 50 year old
memories. Checking the clock, she knew
she’d better get busy.
The day wore on—errands, lunch
while her friend kept saying, Millie, are
you OK? Where are you today? But Millie didn’t want to talk about the
letter—it was too personal, too closely connected to a part of her past she’d
never shared.
At home later, Millie reread the
letter. She hadn’t ever felt that kind of
connection with anyone. As close as she and her husband had been, her relationship with Robbie had come at a more impressionable time in her life.
The sun now below the trees left
the living room shrouded in gray. Millie
reached over and turned on a lamp. Gilly
roused from his sleep and whined.
“Gilly, my boy, you must be starved!
I’m sorry—let’s get something in your tummy.” Gilly wagged his tail knowingly.
The next morning, before heading for the
kitchen and morning coffee she reached for her journal. Writing was her survival tool—events,
relationships all recorded for posterity, allowing deep-felt emotions to bleed
onto the pages.
A cool
breeze brought the fragrances of spring to Millie’s nostrils as she sat writing
in her meditation center. Stopping to read
the words, she saw them as if for the first time, wondering where they’d come
from—memories, scenes from her past, and Robbie--dear, dear Robbie.
A piece of toast and an hour later,
Millie knew she needed to talk with someone.
She phoned her friend, Sara, who
owned a Bed and Breakfast on the coast.
With a small suitcase packed, and Gilly in the back seat, she drove off before noon.
Sara and Millie entered the Peace Corp
out of college—Millie with an elementary education degree from Southern Oregon
College, and Sara, a sociology degree in hand, from Swarthmore
College in Pennsylvania. Two years in Kenya, teaching in a rural area
outside Kisumu, brought them together like sisters. They laughed, fought, shared
heartaches and disappointments, along with falling head over heels in love with
the most beautiful of East African countries.
They both remained in Kenya
after their Peace Corp responsibilities ended—extended visas obtained because they knew people who knew people…. In those days a few extra shillings made
most anything possible.
Millie pulled into the Cliff House B
& B and saw Sara waving from the window.
What a beautiful place for people to come and relax—a large, soft gray,
home-like structure sitting on an 80 foot cliff overlooking the Pacific. The huge boulders jutting out of the waters gave drama to the scene. Most of the bedrooms overlooked the coast, but even those facing inland had a view of flower gardens that were
simply gorgeous. All of Sara’s talent
for creativity had gone into her business.
Sara ran out and they embraced.
Sara had returned to the US six years
earlier than Millie to begin working on further degrees. She eventually entered the classroom as a
university professor of women’s studies. Eight years before she retired her husband,
also a professor, died in a climbing accident. When Sara retired, she moved to the Oregon coast and bought the B & B— loving the
opportunity to meet people from all over the US and often other countries.
Millie
poured wine as Sara took lunch to the patio.
“OK, Millie, you said you needed to talk. I’m all ears.”
Millie told
her about the letter and the years-old story of her relationship with
Robbie. “I guess it’s just the shock of
hearing from him—albeit written nearly 40 years ago—that has me feeling…. Well, I don’t know how I’m feeling. I keep reliving the friendship—it was so
special at the time.”
“Why don’t
you try to find Robbie?”
“But how? I haven’t had any connection with him or
anyone from New Castle
since I was in high school. I wouldn’t
know the first place to begin.”
“What about
the internet?”
“But where
do I begin? I mean, he could be dead!”
“Well, that's information. Probably the Southern
Poverty Law Center would be a place to begin…”
Sara looked at Millie. “You look
exhausted. Give me a few statistics
about this Robbie—name, college, etc. and let me do some googling. You go take a nap.”
“I didn’t
sleep well last night, and that wine has relaxed me so I could probably snooze
for a bit.”
Millie
settled into Sara’s personal guest room—the attic. She loved the cozy feeling of quilts—on
the bed, hanging on an old rocker, even a small framed one Sara’s grandmother
had made over 100 years ago. The window
opened out to the sea and the sound of the surf had an hypnotic effect on
Millie.
It took no
time for Millie to drift into a sound sleep.
The next thing she knew, a faint whine came to her awareness. She opened her eyes, and saw Gilly’s face
with worry lines etched on his forehead as if to say, Mom, everything OK? She reached over and scratched him. Looking at the clock, two hours has gone by,
but she felt so much better!
To be continued...
No comments:
Post a Comment