Her words have staying power...

This morning when I read the news that Maya Angelou had died I felt sad.  What wonderful contributions this great lady made.  What respect she held. 

And her words have such simplicity--yet such power.

I've learned that people will forget what you said,

people will forget what you did,

but people will never forget how you made them feel.

                   ---Maya Angelou

What a legacy!

I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.

Maya Angelou

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/m/maya_angelou.html#6IpgR203adgwIaQs.99

I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.

Maya Angelou

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/m/maya_angelou.html#6IpgR203adgwIaQs.99

I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.

Maya Angelou

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/m/maya_angelou.html#6IpgR203adgwIaQs.99

Life, Etc. -- Thirty-eight

Megan and Emily flew to Los Angeles the following morning and immediately went to the hospital.  As they walked into her room, Mrs. Meagher opened her eyes and smiled.  Megan leaned down and kissed her mother on the forehead.   “Hi, Mom, Emily and I have come to see you.”  Her mother smiled and took their outstretched hands.

That afternoon, other family members came for short visits.  Laughter could be heard as family stories were repeated.  Her mother rallied and her eyes brightened, but she could no longer speak as a result of the stroke.     

About 7 p.m., Megan suggested they step out and give her mother a rest.  She leaned over and whispered, “I love you, Mother”.  Megan saw her eyes close and her head turn to one side as she felt a slight squeeze from her mother’s hand.

A few minutes later, as the sisters chatted by the door, the doctor walked in to check on his patient.  He leaned down with his stethoscope, then looked at them and said, “She’s gone.”  Megan and her sister kissed their mother’s forehead one last time, and stood holding on to one another. 

The next several days were filled with necessary decisions and arrangements—all made in the face of grief.  Megan’s father appeared strong, but everyone knew it was a cover.  Three days later, a memorial service was held and two days after that, Megan and Emily were back in Maple Village.

On Sunday morning, Megan woke at 8--surprised she'd slept so late, and yet still feeling exhausted.  She immediately thought of her mother—her death just didn't seem real.  Megan had talked with her father the day after their return and he sounded lonely, but encouraged her that he'd made plans to meet with some of his friends for lunch.

Megan walked out onto her deck.  What a beautiful morning!  Yet it seemed a contradiction—everything coming to life, but death so much a part of her current thoughts.   She’d lost friends—all much too young to die; but losing a mother, even at her elderly age was so different.  It left a hole that nothing else would fill.   Megan had shed very few tears, but the void felt far larger than anything else she’d experienced—even her divorce.

Just then her cell phone rang.  Answering she heard Chloe’s voice.  “Megan, I want to invite you and Emily out for lunch today—about 2 if that will work.  I’ve taken the liberty of also inviting Isabelle and Rachel, and Diane and her boys.”  Chloe had gotten acquainted with Diane as they were all helping Isabelle with the bakery.

“We’d love to.  I haven’t even grocery shopped since we’ve been home.  And it will be good to relax and think of something else.”

As she hung up, Emily appeared from her bedroom.  She came up to Megan and gave her mother a hug around the waist.  “Mommie, I feel sad.” 

“Of course, you do, Em.  It’s been a sad few days.  But Chloe has invited us out for lunch, and Diane’s boys will be there too.”

Emily brightened immediately and then looked up at her mother.  “Is it OK to be just a little happy?” 

“Yes, absolutely!  I want you to be happy, and I know Grandma would want that as well.”

When they arrived at Chloe’s house, the others had already arrived.  After hugs and a few tears, the mood changed as they all sat down to eat.  An afternoon of catching up on Isabelle’s bakery, Diane’s new project, and the anticipation of Chloe’s summer art classes all reminded Megan of how intertwined their lives were—and how supportive this group had become.

The next morning at her usual spot on her deck, Megan looked down at the beautiful roses blooming in Clara Elsworth’s yard—red, pink, yellow, orange, lavender—all so lovingly cared for.   Megan’s thoughts went to the get-together at Chloe’s the previous day.  She realized that she, too, was being lovingly cared for at this time.  Her friends were there in every way she could possibly imagine. 

Suddenly Megan wanted badly to talk with her mother—to tell her that she missed her so much, but she would be OK.  She had a family here in Maple Valley.  And right now they were here for her, as a few weeks ago, they had all rallied around Isabelle and would be there again if Roland ever returns. 

As Megan stood looking out over her deck-view of the valley, she had a mental picture of snuggling down in a nest.  This place is my home--my nesting place--and we care for one another.  Isn’t that what life is really about? 

She smiled as she thought of the words of A.A. Milne, spoken through his two famous characters:  “I don’t feel very much like Pooh today,” said Pooh.

“There there,” said Piglet.  “I’ll bring you tea and honey until you do.”

            Yes, thought Megan, Life, etc. comes bringing laughter and tears.  She'd make it through this and the other et ceteras that come.  And while in the middle of these et ceteras, tea and honey will do. 

                                                                     The End

Life, Etc. -- Thirty-seven

Megan awoke with sunshine streaming in her window.  Wow--a beautiful day ahead!

The last few weeks had been a flurry of activity—scrubbing, sanding, and painting Isabelle’s bakery.  Christopher and Rachel had worked like Trojans—even Emily had done her share.  Megan made soup and other one-dish meals to feed the crew at the end of most workdays.  And besides all the work in the new store, Isabelle had kept up with her daily baking contracts.

 

Ovens were being installed today, then another inspection.   Open House was planned for June 1.  Isabelle still hadn’t finalized on a name—Hot Cross Buns, Rachel’s favorite; but The Village Bakery being the top contender. 

Megan had worked in the Book ‘n Brew alone the last few days because Isabelle needed Christopher.  When she walked into the bakery, she couldn’t believe the progress.  A beautiful tan taupe covered the walls with small tan metal tables and chairs scattered about the room.  The old wooden floors had been sanded and polished.  Chloe was in the process of hanging more of her beautiful paintings that brought life to the walls.  The transformation was unbelievable.  

June 1—the big opening for Hot Cross Buns--Isabelle said that with all Rachel's hard work that she could choose the name.  Megan and Emily didn’t get home until nearly 9 after helping clean up after the Open House. 

 

Emily sighed as they walked up the steps into their apartment, “Mom, I just want to go to bed!”

 

 “Sweetie, I’ll be right behind you.  But first I’m taking a nice, long hot bath.”

As Megan walked into the bathroom to start her water, her phone rang.  She answered with a tired “hello" and immediately recognized her sister’s voice. 

“Megan, Mother’s had a stroke.  I’ve been trying to call you for several hours.  I couldn’t find your cell phone number, and I didn’t want to leave a message on your home phone.”

“O, no!  How is she?  Will she live?”  Megan felt off kilter.  Although she and her mother weren’t close, they usually talked once a week.  And during the last conversation, they were preparing for a cruise.

“To be perfectly honest, the doctor isn’t sure.  The stroke was serious.  Can you come down?” 

“Of course, but I’ll have to make some arrangements.  I’ll call and let you know when I can get a flight.”  Megan hung up after hearing more details on her mother's condition, then realized Emily was standing at her side.

“Has something happened to Grandma?”  Emily took her mother’s hand. 

“Yes, Honey, she’s had a stroke, and I need to make arrangements to go down.  I think you should probably go as well.”

“Will it be really sad?  Is Grandma going to die?”

“Honestly, Em, I don’t know.  I need to make arrangements for the shop and get airline tickets.”

Megan called Christopher.  After she told him what happened, he offered to make arrangements with his teachers to miss the last few days of school.  Megan felt reluctant to allow that, but at that moment she couldn't think clearly.

“Talk it over with your parents, and call me in the morning.  I’m going to try the internet to see about flights.  I don’t know if I’ll have to drive to Portland or Medford.”

                       

The next morning as Megan entered the shop, Chloe was about to knock.  “Megan, I’m glad I’ve not come too early.”

“No, of course not, Chloe.  I usually spend an hour or so in the shop before I open.  Come on in.”

“Megan, you look exhausted.  Didn’t you sleep well last night?”

“Actually, no, my sister called to say our mother has had a stroke.  I had to find a flight for Em and me, and I still have to make arrangements for the shop.”

“Can I help with anything?  I’ve never run a bookshop, but my aunt had a shop in Sorrento when I was a teenager and I worked in it.”

Megan smiled at her friend.  Chloe had the intuitive ability to show up at just the times.  “Chloe, I really could use your help.  Em and I fly out tomorrow morning and Christopher said he would take off school, but I’m don't want that.  He could show you the ropes—at least enough until I get back.  I will certainly pay you.”

“Megan, I’d love to be here for you.  I have two art classes starting, but not until June 15.  I wanted to give the kids a break before they begin.  Just tell me what I need to know.”

Megan spent most of the morning showing Chloe around the shop and procedures for making sales.  Christopher came in at noon and he and Chloe worked out times they could cover the shop.  With Chloe’s help, he would not have to miss classes at school.

To be continued...

Life, Etc. -- Thirty-six

Megan and Rachel walked back to the Book ‘n Brew.  “You know, Megan, I feel disloyal saying this, but since Dad left, Mother has been so much happier.  She is like a different person.”

Megan spoke cautiously, “And how do you feel about that?”

“I couldn’t be happier for her.  Actually, I feel happy down to my toes.” Rachel grinned.  “But I also feel guilty sometimes because it wasn’t like this when Dad lived with us.  He constantly talked about how awful the world is, and wives are working outside the home, and movies bring disobedience.  He was negative about everything.  Dad and Mom didn’t actually fight, but no one ever seemed happy.”

“Sometimes people begin their married lives as one person and change as they get older.”  Megan wanted to be careful not to sound disloyal to Roland Fisher.

“Well, I don’t think my father will ever change.  He’s always talked about loving God so much, but I don’t remember a time when he wasn’t angry about something--either at home or in the world as he called it.”  Rachael went on.  “Mother has changed though.  I don’t remember her being angry, but she looked sad so much of the time.  Now, even when she’s tired, she smiles.  I really hope this works out and Mother can begin a storefront bakery.  It would give her such a sense of independence.  And Mother needs that.”

“You, my dear,” Megan responded, “are very perceptive.  Yes, I agree, your mother needs a sense of independence, of becoming.”

“Yes, I like the way you say that—becoming.  Yeah, that’s it.”

They walked in the shop, and Christopher, hearing their voices, came to the front.  He smiled and turned his usual pink when he looked at Rachael.  “Hi, Megan.  Hi, Rachel.  So, what’s happening with the bakery?”

“Mom and Mr. Wilson are working on financial details right now.”  She hesitated, “Megan, since I’m here is there anything you need done?”

“Wow!  How about you guys just managing things and I’ll take the rest of the day off?”  Megan laughed.  “Actually, I’ll bet Christopher would appreciate help expanding the Children’s Section.  Danny’s story hour has been so popular I want to rearrange shelves so we can have more floor space for the children.”

          Christopher and Rachel disappeared to the back of the store.  Megan could hear them talking about their movie date that evening.

 

          A couple of hours later, the door of the Book ‘n Brew opened.  “Well, shake my hand.  I am now a business woman—a business woman with a building to house my business!”  

 

          “O Mom, that is so cool!”  Rachel ran from the back when she heard her mother's voice.  “So, when do we open?”

          “Well, lots of work remains—scrubbing, cleaning, tearing down a wall, painting. I also have to add ovens and a bigger work space in the kitchen.  And I need to think about décor in the storefront.”

          “You know, I’ll bet Diane would love to help with that.  Also Chloe might want to display some of her art. And I’ll give you the name of the man who coordinated my remodel project here.  I’ll also help with cleaning.”  Megan could feel the excitement she had when her own Book ‘n Brew project began.  It was exhausting but held such promise.

          “I am leasing the building—or at least the downstairs part of it.  I want to talk with the carpenter about expanding the kitchen, and the other room in the back can be used for storage.  I need to see the front door from the kitchen.”

          Megan went to her desk to get the card for the carpenter she’d hired for her remodel.

 

Isabelle followed her and sat down.  “You know, Megan, what happened today almost seemed too easy—discussing how I want to use the building, the rental cost, agreements in the lease.  It just kind of flowed--reminded me of a time Mother and I were in a canoe in Belize riding gently down a quiet stream.   Mother’s face looked so peaceful.  I just wish she were alive so I could tell her my plans.

Megan hugged her friend.  “I’ll bet she knows and is smiling ear to ear right now.”

“Curtis’s mother and I talked on the phone a bit as I worked out details with him.  She was so excited when I told her about my plans.”

“Isabelle, I suspect you’ve had a lot of years when you weren’t able to make decisions for yourself.  I read this morning:  'When life is in balance, a voice from our deepest part will validate us by saying ‘you can do it!’”  

To be continued...

Life, Etc. -- Thirty-five

As Isabelle pulled into her driveway, Rachel came running out.  “Mother, there’s a call for you.”

“Who is it?” 

 

“I don’t know—some man.”  Isabelle took the receiver.

“Hello, this is Isabelle Fisher.”

“Mrs. Fisher, this is Curtis Wilson.  I live in Portland, but my mother owns a building in Maple Village.  I’ve heard that you’ve started a bakery in your home.  If you want to expand your business, you might be interested in looking at this  property.”

Isabelle felt a tingle go through her.  That is exactly what she’d been thinking, but hadn’t had time to even begin pursuing any possibilities for a building.

“Well, actually,” she began hesitantly, “I have been considering just that, but haven’t had time to do any research.  Where is it located?”

“My parents owned a small restaurant in Maple Village about 15 years ago.  They closed it when my father became ill, and they moved up to be near my family.  He died about six months ago, and my mother is interested in doing something with the property.  Would you like to take a look at it?  The kitchen needs remodeling, and there’s an area in front where they had tables.”

“Goodness,” Isabelle began, as she struggled with comprehending all he was saying.  Is this really falling into place so easily?  “Yes, I think I'd like to look at it.”

“I’m coming to Maple Village on Friday.  Would it be convenient to meet together at 2 o’clock?  The storefront is just next to Granny’s Cooked Goose.”

“Of course, I’ve even looked in the windows and wondered what the rooms contained.  Yes, I’ll meet you at 2 on Friday.  And thank you, thank you so much!”  Isabelle felt elated.  Was this really possible?  Could she actually have a business of her own?

Soon after she’d received her mother’s insurance check, she’d opened a savings account in a Eugene bank with Rachel as the beneficiary.  She knew that wouldn’t keep Roland from taking half of it if their marriage ended, but she wanted to keep the news of the inheritance as quiet as possible.

Rachel stood by her during the conversation with an anxious look on her face.  When Isabelle hung up, Rachel asked excitedly, “Mom, what was that all about?”

“Honey, we just might open a full-fledged walk-in bakery!”

“That would be so cool!  Could I work in it?”  Rachel had enjoyed her time in the Book ‘n Brew, and learned the etiquette of waiting on customers.

“I said ‘we’ didn’t I?” Isabelle affirmed.  “Yes, of course!  I’ll need your help.  I might even consider paying you!”  They laughed together.  Life had begun taking on a whole new meaning since just the two resided in their home.

 

“I think I’ll call Megan and see if she can meet with us when we look at the building.”

On Friday at 2 p.m. prompt, Isabelle, Rachel, and Megan stood at the door of the one time restaurant when a car drove up.

 

Curtis Wilson got out and walked over to the women—at over six feet, he towered over them.  “I haven’t been to Maple Village for several years.  It is so beautiful this time of year!”  I’m Curtis Wilson.  And which of you is Isabelle Fisher?”

Isabelle held out her hand.  “Hello, I’m Isabelle, and this is my daughter, Rachel, and my best friend, Megan. Megan owns the Book n’ Brew down the street.”

“I’m glad to meet you.  Let’s take a look at the facilities first, and then we can talk about possibilities.”  The four walked into a cloud of dust and gloom.  “I think I’d have been much smarter if I’d come a day early and aired out the place and washed the windows.  This looks like something out of Alfred Hitchcock.  I hope there’s nothing lurking behind any doors.”  They all laughed.

 

The front room had large windows—very nice feature.  A counter and cash register stood near the front door.  The kitchen facilities definitely needed updating.  Isabelle envisioned the wall at the back of the kitchen knocked out for more space.  But with remodeling—more ovens and work tables and storage added in the back space, Isabelle saw great potential.

When the tour and discussion of possibilities concluded, Curtis suggested they go next door to Granny’s Cooked Goose to continue their discussion.

To be continued

Life, Etc. -- Thirty-four

                                      Sage, Texas

His earlier rage had gotten Roland past the crisis.  He finished his sermon and read it over with satisfaction.  Collecting the pages, he put them inside his Bible.  It would take a few days and frequent turning of pages to get it completely dry.

 

Roland didn't see the mice again, but knew they’d be a continuing problem until he patched the hole behind the sink.  As he started toward the back porch to get supplies for the patch job, he heard a knock at the front door.

Roland rarely had company—except an occasional member of his congregation who brought him a casserole.  But, unfortunately, few had arrived in recent days.  When he opened the door, a woman of perhaps 50 stood before him.  “Yes, may I help you?” Roland had never seen the woman before.

“If you’re Roland Fisher, you can.”  She had a nice smile, and was modestly dressed.

 

“Yes, I’m Pastor Roland Fisher.  What may I do for you?”

 

“I’m Ruth Livingston.  You know my father, Harold Gordon.”  Mr. Gordon had been a minister for many years, but a car accident left him paralyzed from the waist down.  Soon after the accident, an uncle died and left him a large sum of money, so with increasingly poor health, he decided to find someone to replace him in the pulpit.  He heard about Roland Fisher looking for a church at just the right time.

 

“Please come in, Mrs. Livingston.  I have to apologize for the way my house looks.  I have no wife.  Well, with Isabelle’s unwillingness to come with me, I don’t have a wife.  And I’m afraid my homemaking skills lack greatly.”

“Don’t apologize, please, Pastor Fisher.  My father tried to call you, and I guess your phone is out of order.  He wants to invite you to dinner after your sermon on Sunday.”  Harold Gordon lived about an hour from Sage.  He didn’t often come to Sunday services because of his health.  “My father will have his driver pick you up after church and take you to our home.”

“Mrs. Livingston, thank you.  I’d be honored to come, but I’m sorry that your father won’t hear my sermon.  I have worked hard on it.  The congregation is coming along, but it is difficult to get people to understand what they must do to be saved.  I think this Sunday’s sermon will have an impact.” 

 

Ruth Livingston looked around the shabby furnishings in the little house.  Her heart went out to this man who, like herself, worked hard toward getting out the message of salvation.

 

“May I offer you some tea?”  As Roland asked the question he wondered if he actually had any tea bags, and he knew he didn’t have clean cups.  Once again, he apologized for how things look.  “I usually don’t let things get this bad, but I’ve been so busy with planning our door-to-door calls and the Sunday sermon.”

Ruth smiled.  “I’m afraid that my husband, may he rest in peace, could not have washed a cup if his life depended upon it.  Women are much better at the household side of things, I think.  I don’t mean to offend you.”  Ruth looked around at the disastrous mess everywhere her eyes rested.  What this dear man needs is a woman to put his life in order.

Roland went to the kitchen, heated water, scrubbed two cracked cups, squeezed tea out of one bag and carried the cups into the small, drab living room.  “When I moved here, all I had was a couple of suitcases and my landlady loaned me enough to get by.”   The room housed two straight-back chairs and an old brown recliner, a black painted coffee table, and a dented, metal floor lamp.  Shabby lace curtains hung drearily at the windows.

They sipped their tea in a hesitant silence.  Ruth wanted an excuse to return, but thought perhaps she’d wait until they were better acquainted.  “Thank you for the tea, but I’d better go now.  My father is expecting me.  I actually help care for him since my husband died.  It has worked out quite well.  I don’t have any children, so it is just Dad and me, and a woman who comes in if I have to be gone.”

“What a generous soul you are.  I had a wife once whom I thought would be there for me, but she became charmed by the worldly ways and now I serve God alone.”  Roland felt encouraged to find a woman who still knew her place in the world.

On Sunday morning, when Roland entered the pulpit, he looked out at the 45 souls—he did an exact count each week—and saw Ruth Livingston’s smiling face from the front pew.  She wore a gray dress with a white collar.  A hat with small white flowers hid her brown hair which he’d seen in a long braid down her back when she’d stopped by his house.

Roland pounded the pulpit as he made his position clear on the issues of living God’s will.  Roland noticed the smiles and nods of approval coming from Ruth’s face as she spoke.   He felt encouraged.

After the service ended, Ruth stayed behind and then approached Roland.  “Mr. Fisher, I told my father that I’d attend church here and then bring you to our home.  I hope that’s OK with you.”

“Why certainly.  Seeing you in the front row was an encouragement to me.”  Roland gathered up his Bible and notes, locked the church doors and they began their hour-long drive to Sunday dinner.

To be continued...

Life, Etc. -- Thirty-three

Megan followed Chloe into a room behind the kitchen.  Soft yellow walls greeted them.  In one corner stood a small table with candles arranged in a circle.  A rug covered the floor in front of the table, and several pillows stood against one wall.  A large window looked out onto the back of Chloe’s property.  On the walls were watercolors unlike any of Chloe’s other work.  In one picture a soft gray circle appeared with what looked like sunbeams in bright yellows and soft pinks painted in wide brush strokes.  Another had a soft blue-gray shape of a human along one side with narrow, bright swirls of color coming out from the figure.  Each painting possessed an essence that Megan could not describe.  She felt she had stepped into sacred space.

Standing next to Megan, Chloe quietly said, “No, these are not for sale.”

“They are amazing.  Yet as I say that, I really don’t know what they are.  Looking at them I want to suggest soul work.  They seem hallowed.”  Megan hesitated.  “Am I making sense?  I am so touched to be here.  This obviously is a very personal space for you.”

“Megan, it’s true, this is my sacred space.  I have had similar spots in other places I’ve lived, but somehow this room is a combination of all the good parts of my other spaces.  This is where I meditate, and often after meditation I am drawn to my watercolors to paint images.  I guess you’d say that I use this particular medium to express myself spiritually.”

“Chloe, I feel honored to see this room.  Thank you.”  Megan felt truly touched.

As they walked back into the living room, Emily came running toward them with paper in each hand.  When she held out her paintings, Chloe praised them highly.  “These are very good, Emily.  Would you be interested in taking a class this spring?”

“I’d love to!”  Emily jumped up and down.  “Mom, I can, can’t I?”

“Yes, of course you can!  I’ve always told you I thought you had a talent for drawing.”  The pride on Emily’s face was evident.

That night, as Emily got ready for bed, she continued to talk about the evening.  “Mom, Chloe is really cool!  I’ll bet Kaitlin will want to take lessons too.  Will you talk to her mother?”

Megan felt melancholy.  Her little girl was growing up.  At the same time she felt happy that in spite the divorce, she and Jonathan were doing a pretty good job raising this beautiful young girl.  “I’ll talk with her.  We’ll find out when Chloe plans to begin.  Now, it’s late—you can only read 15 minutes.”  Megan leaned down and gave Emily a squeeze and kiss on the forehead.

Later, as Megan lay in bed, she again thought of Chloe’s meditation room and the paintings.  She felt drawn to something about the room, but she didn’t paint, didn’t even draw.  She did believe, however, that she had a lot to learn from Chloe.

On Wednesday morning of the following week, Megan heard from Stephen.  “Hey, my Friend, what’s happening in your world?”

“Stephen, how great to hear from you!  I want to know what you're up to."

“Other than trying to cope with a bad bit of weather that's come through, we've just spent lots of time talking--what I'll do, and adjustments, etc.  And then, of course, my trip to Italy. I think I’ll wait around until June, and then leave.  Want to come with me?”

 

“Don’t temp me.  Em and I had dinner last weekend at Chloe’s and she and I discussed that possibility.  I just don’t know.”

“Look, Megan.  I’m serious—if you and Emily want to go, I’d love to have you both as traveling companions.  Think about it anyway.”

They caught up on local news and reactions to his announcement.  Surprisingly, Megan had heard little.  He asked about Isabelle, and although she didn’t mention the insurance check, she talked about her growing pastry business.

To be continued...

Life, Etc. -- Thirty-two

                          

Isabelle hardly slept that night.  In a strange way, she felt two very opposing emotions.  Elation for an opportunity to make some exciting choices possible; and deep sadness that her mother could not be there to witness her joy.

 

Isabelle wasn’t ready to make a decision about the money.  At the back of her mind, she also thought of Roland.  If he found out about the insurance money, could he take it from her?  She decided that at least for awhile, she’d do nothing.  She knew her information was safe with Megan and Diane.

Isabelle got out her baking goods for the big order from the new account in Eugene.  Her little business kept growing!

After Emily left for school Megan’s cell phone rang.  “What a great surprise for Isabelle.” Diane said cheerfully. “I’m so happy for her!”

“Me, too,” Megan kept seeing Isabelle’s face the night before at dinner.  “I’ll be excited to hear how she intends to use it.”

“So, what are you up to today, Diane?”

“Well, I am trying to get all my information together for income tax, and I just hate that job!  I always left it for Karl and I’m not sure at this time of year if I’m angry because he died or because he left me with this crap to take care of.  Then I end that scenario with guilt for even suggesting it.”

 

“Why not just throw it all in a box and have your accountant rummage through it?”

“I know you’re kidding, but that’s pretty much what I do!”  They both laughed.  “I really need to get going.  We haven’t talked in awhile and I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Any time, my Friend, any time.”  Megan hung up and reminded herself how lucky she was to have Diane as a close friend.

The shop remained quiet until late morning when Chloe called to invite Megan for dinner that weekend.  “And of course Emily is invited!” Chloe insisted.

 

“That is really sweet of you.  We’ve talked about Emily taking art classes when you begin.”  Emily showed a leaning toward right brain activities—art, music, even some writing at her young age, and Megan was thrilled.

 

“Tell you what,” Chloe said, “I’ll have some art supplies out for her to work with after dinner.”

“Emily will love that!  I can’t wait to tell her.”  Megan found more reason all the time to love this woman.  “And, by the way, I’ve had several people admiring your art work here in the shop.  In fact, I think one is sold.  I don’t have the money, but a woman from Bend took measurements the other day and said she’d return.  She likes the one of the child standing by the field of sunflowers.”

Chloe’s voice became melancholy as she said, “You know I almost didn’t give that one up.  I actually painted it in Italy as I recalled my childhood days playing in a field near our home.”  The women chatted for a few minutes and then hung up.

Saturday evening at 6:00, Megan and Emily drove into Chloe’s driveway.  She told Emily about Chloe’s plan to allow her to paint so she couldn’t wait to get there.

After dinner, Emily settled in the studio with paints and brushes, and Megan and Chloe took their wine into a softly lit living room.  “I feel warm and content in your home,” Megan said as she sat down and curled up her feet at one end of the couch.  “Your colors are softer than I’ve used in our home, but your paintings add such vibrancy.  I get the sense of being in Tuscany just sitting here.”  Megan smiled and relaxed in the calming atmosphere she felt in Chloe’s home.

“I’m taking everything you’re saying as a compliment,” Chloe began.  “Every time I’ve moved, I think I’ll try for a different décor and always go back to something resembling Italy.”

“Then you’ve found your authentic self in your surroundings, I’d say.  I’ll go home and dream of Italy tonight and it will magically become lifelike because of being here,” Megan said with a smile.

“O, I almost forgot,” Megan went on, “just before I closed the shop today, the woman I told you about from Bend returned and bought the picture—the little girl and the sunflowers.  I reluctantly wrapped it—since it hung just across the room from my desk.  I often looked at it and dreamed of my trip to Italy.”

“So you have a trip planned?”

“It’s still in the dream stage, but yes, I do plan to make a trip.  I want Emily to have the experience.  Just don’t know when it will be.”

“Working, even at a career you love, can limit the rest of your life.  It took me quite awhile to make the changes in my life.  I knew what I wanted to do—art full time as well as teaching children.  I pondered leaving fulltime teaching with trepidation for several years—until I truly believed it could happen.  And that’s when it did!  And, I not only took the plunge, but found a house, and thanks to you, an outlet for my work right away.”  Chloe smiled dreamily still not fully believing that everything had worked out so well.  “The key is to believe that it will happen.”

“Hmmm, I guess we need to talk more about this.”  Megan spoke with a sense of wonder.  “There was something—an internal guidance system, intuition—that made me believe that Maple Village was the right place for Em and me.”

“Megan,” Chloe said cautiously, “I have some watercolors in another room.  Would you like to see them?”

To be continued...