Well, I wasn’t much of a decorator, but I had the basic items a man needs: a large screen television, a nice refrigerator, comfortable sofas & chairs, a pool table, and a ‘kegerator.’
Jeanne found a new place to live near the schools her children were attending. Her children were teenagers, and she had a Greyhound (yes, they are ‘that’ big & oh so sweet) and a Schnauzer too.
She was trying to keep as much as possible, the same as it had been ~ though their world had been turned upside down. We were living about 35 miles away from each other, but we would talk on the phone and email everyday. We were becoming great friends.
It was a wonder to both of us that we hadn’t connected after 20-something years of random encounters. She was “that” girl at the golf course in the 80′s. She was the owner of the furniture store that I’d wandered into in the 90′s. She was the Golf Pro at the Club in 2000. And now, in 2005, through what seemed to be the most improbable encounter, we had a solid connection to each other…through “Craig’s List.”
I watched as she grew stronger (though I wouldn’t dare call her ‘strong,’) She was not going to let difficult circumstances define her, but it meant everything to me to be the shoulder she could cry on when she needed to. I believed she felt the same way. I let her know that she could fret and worry about things, but what I’ve always believed is ‘what is meant to happen always becomes obvious.’
I asked Jeanne if she wanted to play golf with me. Obviously it had been quite some time since she had taken time for herself, and I was looking forward to the time out as well. My work, in the Nutraceutical Industry, found me traveling abroad very often. I was extremely busy running vitamin manufacturing plants here and in Switzerland, so golf with “the girl” was something I really looked forward to.
My house was just a mile from the course, and I asked her if she would meet me there. By this time, she felt safe with me, and so she agreed.
Welcoming her inside was like a dream. She wandered around slowly, observing everything, and taking it all in. After a few minutes, Jeanne asked, “How long have you lived here?” I answered, “A couple of years…?”
She pointed to the un-hung pictures leaning against the walls, and motioned with her finger from the picture to the wall. She smiled and teased, “Failure to commit?” “No,” I thought to myself… “… Just waiting for you.”