A woman now, but not so long ago....

A friend came to visit yesterday. She was about 15 when I first met her. A cute and curious teen drawn into my shop to view the shiny things. She was, as my mother would have said, 'as bright as a button.' And yesterday she sat in my living room with her husband and their beautiful baby girl.

I'm more conscious now of the distinction between having and being a friend. I started this with the words, 'a friend came to visit'. I don't know if that is true. A young woman came to visit an old woman who is her friend. I suspect that I am, to her, more of a project. Someone you feel you must drop in on while you are home for a visit in summer.

As I made tea and chatted I made several statements that, while I can't recall what they were at present, were obviously unacceptable. The first two or three times I saw the look pass between this smart young couple and received a gentle nudge to a more modern way of thinking, to the right way of thinking, about matters quite inconsequential, I blundered on. That's what I do. Eventually, a wave of profound sadness mercifully shut me up.

The sadness I felt: it was the realization that I had been that young woman. Maybe not to that extent, I don't know. How would I know really. But the experience, I think, I hope, has softened me and ground down my opinionated edges. And while I'm grateful for the lessons, I'm resolved to be less accessible to some of my teachers.

She stopped by again today. She left a note. I wasn't home.

Wait til James sees this!

I've got this lovely neighbour who drops by and has a cup of tea now and then. You have to appreciate what the people in your life bring to the table, so to speak. James has taught me not to take criticism so seriously. Seriously. That's invaluable. I grew up in a family of eye rollers and I was the rollee, that being the person who was designated as the family screw-up. Eventually I found something to do with myself that folks outside the circle appreciated, my family rolled their eyes and sighed, and I carried on. 

Anyway, back to my neighbour. He could be family. I'm always doing something and he takes it upon himself to point out what's wrong with whatever I'm doing. But he isn't family and I, for a lot of reasons, think it's hilarious. The reasons are obvious I guess. He isn't family. I'm older than I was when I had contact with my family, and so on ad infinitum. Oh, yes. AND I call him out on his shit. 

James, to his credit, is not the least bit phased. He is, if anything, rather incredulous. When I was building the enclosure on the back door he stopped by on the afternoon I had put the trusses up. He was doing his expected inspection, found a shim in one corner and said, 'Ah ha, there it is.'  I kid you not.

It was so blatant that I had to say something. I was not feeling any old feelings, just fascinated really. I asked if he knew where the need came from to find something to criticize. He didn't know what I was talking about. I pointed out that he seemed to have been looking for a flaw to point out. Why else would he suddenly have gleefully exclaimed, 'Ah ha, there it is.' Bless his heart, he saw my point. I assured him I didn't mind, on the contrary, I'd found it helpful over the couple of years we'd been friends, in overcoming my old reactions to hypercriticism. We had a cup of tea. We talked. I value James.

Now, when I really screw something up I can hardly wait to share it with James. I've just made a complete hash of refinishing my bathtub. James is going to love that. I saw his car was in his driveway when I came by a while ago. Maybe I'll see if he wants to come over for dinner.