: walking and chewing gum, plus a farewell :

You know what? It’s not as hard as it looks. Seriously, I walked and chewed gum at the same damn time. And I’m here to tell the tale — uninjured, too. I’m not even wearing a Band-Aid.

Over the course of the weekend, I’ve probably covered six or seven miles just wandering aimlessly, with no destination in mind. That’s very therapeutic in times of distress, walking is. You don’t need to think, or talk, or put on an act, just move your feet. It focuses your mind on the basics, things like balance and gravity. You can then walk away from the crap overwhelming you.

On Friday, a dear, sweet friend of mine passed away. Margie and I knew each other less than a year, but it didn’t take long to become attached. We met doing laundry late one wintry night. Somewhere during the spin cycle we lapsed into a conversation about ice skating. She loved it; I loathed it. She spoke of twirling and gliding, I talked of falling and knocking myself unconscious.

From such an unlikely beginning a strong, lasting bond was forged. Who knows why, maybe it was fate or karma or maybe it was the curiously intimate atmosphere a laundry room creates. I’m not joking. Once you’ve watched a person folding their underpants, the mystery is gone. There’s no reason for modesty or pride or anything else, you’re an open book.

A friend such as Margie comes along and life magically gets better, easier, a little less scary. She didn’t judge or complain, she just cared. Oh, and pestered me about nutrition. But the truly remarkable thing was, she got my jokes. She didn’t always think they were funny, but she got them. She was a wonder and a joy to be around. I’ll miss her like a kidney.

Think where man’s glory
most begins and ends,
and say my glory was
I had such friends.
William Butler Yeats

copyright © 2017 the whirly girl

24 thoughts on “: walking and chewing gum, plus a farewell :

  1. I’m very sorry for your loss. I just want to say I love the way you write, it kept me interested in the story and I loved how you made a boring place where everyone does their laundry seem like a magical place where you can make strong friendships.

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  2. I’m so sorry you lost Margie. Friends like that are rare gems that just add sparkle to our lives. Oddly, you have made one of my biggest fears sound alluring. We recently lost our house and are downsizing drastically. My one plea has been, “please don’t make me have to cart laundry to a laundry room again”. I may have to rethink that.

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    1. I’ve had heartaches before, but, yeow, I didn’t see this coming. I’m still trying to get my feet under me.

      And I did the downsizing, too — involuntarily. When the shock and horror subsided, I realized being a minimalist wasn’t so bad after all. Sure, the schlepping is a huge pain, but the laundry room itself can be a hoot. It’s paradise for eavesdroppers and you get all your laundry done at the same time, instead of in endless loads. Plus, it’s kind of nice to sit still, away from phones and TV and computers. I can’t promise a Margie, but anything’s possible :o)

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