Celebrations

Thirty years ago it was a hot July in Boston. My housemate and I were stoop sitting at our Wigglesworth Street (Love that name) home. A white haired man and a tall woman were carrying box after box after box of books as they moved into their home. With all those books, I knew I wanted to meet them.

I did and we became friends.

Although the couple divorced (see the Dan entry below), the woman Barbara and I have shared support, pain, joy, broken dreams, fulfilled dreams, silliness and just about everything else. We bought a house together in France, then I sold my interest. I also owned a condo over hers while my mother was dying and she coached me through the difficult days that has probably saved me years with a shrink. She kept my two dogs, Albert and Amadeus, when I moved to France but had not allowed enough time between rabies shots and departure. She later sent them to me. I have since baby sat her cat Ptah II.

Neighbours once again in Argeles, we still share meals, stories and little things, like when I'm due to arrive she'll turn on the heat in winter, or open the windows in summer. I'll sit in her store if she has another commitment. And there are the meals shared...some especially cooked and those that start with "I've too many leftovers of (fill in the blank)." The list of automatic support is endless, but at the same time we share difficult truths when needed.

Thus we decided to have a celebration chosing the Tunesian restaurant Poivre et Sel, located at the beach. Its leaf canopied terrace, Tunesian ceramic dishes, friendly greetings have always been a favourite, but it also served incredible couscous and tangines.

We had several of our friends join us, a Swiss couple with a vacation home down the street that we do things with, a couple from her gospel group and the lovely lady from Scotland.

We walked in, sat down, the champagne arrived but every one turned to me and sang "Happy Birthday."

Boy, do I have a sneaky friend.