A good relationship has a pattern like a dance and is built upon some of the same rules. The partners do not need to hold on tightly, because they move confidently in the same pattern, intricate but gay and swift and free, like a country dance of Mozart’s. - Anne Morrow Lindbergh (Gift from the Sea)
Several months back, I spent the morning with an ex-girlfriend who is now a dear friend. A little over ten years my senior and originally from England, we met when I was about forty, and on the rebound from a failed engagement. She was in her mid fifties; her husband having passed several years earlier. We hit it off immediately and spent that season in what I rapturously like to refer to as “the summer of my English lover.” She was a big part of a healing process that would change me forever and instrumental in the writing of my first book. Our relationship is strictly plutonic now, easily maintained because it no longer involves sex, which, more so for women than guys, seems to complicate matters. But I like it like this. I think I appreciate her more.
The plan was for me to drive up, and she would prepare breakfast; then we would catch an early movie (Julie and Julia). The conversation is always good and usually covers a variety of subjects—from politics to the latest books to what’s currently going on in our lives.
Breakfast, as always, is a simple, exquisite treat; this time it was BLTs, built upon a soft and gently seasoned flatbread, with delicately crisp strips of bacon bedded on green lettuce and thinly sliced garden tomatoes; a light smear of mayo, topped with a generous tablespoon of fresh salsa with just the slightest hint of sweetness— sliced cantaloupe & blueberries with a glass of OJ and coffee on the side—the presentation convivial in its old world simplicity.
The movie turned out to be the perfect compliment to the morning. Meryl Streep’s deft portrayal of the late Julia Childs was right on, and suggestive of how my English friend approaches living.
There’s a simple joy in every thing she does; from sewing to cooking to tending her yard and garden. Walking with her in the woods behind her home or along paved trail walkways is never simply a hike or a stroll, but rather an adventure in appreciation of the natural world, an elevation of the common-place into something to be fully indulge, experienced and enjoyed, and dare I add, very English.
It’s hard to describe her enjoyment of the ordinary.
She’ll say to me, “Come, look at this flower.” And gently tilt the sleepy bloom; carefully revealing its dazzling swirls of color in a cascade of light. Or “Taste this.” As she pinches off a piece of some new bread she found at the corner market, delighting in the texture of its taste.
She reminds me that life is savored in a thousand different ways … in the small ways the usual is shown to graces our days; driving away from visiting her … I find myself renewed … in the moments after … I am replete with the realization that this is what I crave most from living … an awareness of all the little moments in the life I have … and in the life that has me.
