Miriam

"You don't have to have anything in common with people you've known since you were five.  With old friends, you've got your whole life in common." - Lyle Lovett

I was thirteen when we met.  It was my first year of high school and we met in drama class.  Miriam and I were both actresses, though she was better at it than I.  She reminded me last night that in those days, we looked alike - olive skinned with long dark hair, neither of us very tall and both wafer thin.  We were pretty girls.  We both acted in every major drama production through our high school years.  She was Lady Macbeth.  I was a witch.  Double, double toil and trouble.  I still remember my lines.  One year we shared the stage in a two-person, one-act play called Please No Flowers.  Miriam won the best actress award that year.  I didn't even get an honourable mention.  

In spite of our aspirations to both be leading ladies, there was no competition between us.  We were very close friends.  She spent a lot of time at my house.  I was never at hers.  I did not know her family.  Outside of school, we had very different home lives.  When high school ended, we went in different directions - I went off to university; Miriam got married.  By the time I graduated from university, Miriam was a few months from giving birth to her first child.  I moved away. We lost touch as people often do.  She had a tree planted in Israel to honour my dad when he passed away.  I was very moved.  I sent her a thank you note and then twenty years went by.  It happens.

One day a few years ago, I opened my mailbox to find a letter.  The return address was from a house a few blocks from my childhood home.  The last name on the envelope wasn't one that I knew but I knew without opening it that it was her.  Since our last contact she had divorced and remarried.  I am easy to find.  I kept my own name after I married.  It was a beautiful letter.  She wanted me to know that she still thought of me after all the intervening years.  She didn't leave a telephone number and her phone number is unlisted.  It took me all of about three minutes to find it anyway.  I called her.  We arranged to get together for dinner when she was next in Toronto.  Her children live here now.  

I was a little nervous about seeing her after all these years but of course I needn't have been.  We are a lot older.  We don't look alike anymore.  Our lives are different.  Our hearts are still the same.  Since that dinner, we've kept in touch.  Last year, Merv and I met Miriam and her husband Sheldon for dinner one night.  They are so well suited.  It made me very happy to see her so well partnered.  Last night they came to our place for dinner.  I made a simple supper.  Miriam keeps kosher so I made fish.  It was perfect for me.  I had time for visiting without being tethered to the kitchen. During the twenty minutes of kitchen time the meal demanded, we left the guys and chatted alone.  While the fish baked, I adjusted the size of the bracelet I made for her last year for her sixtieth birthday.  We were sixteen again.

In a few short months, I will be sixty.  As I age, I am growing increasingly nostalgic.  I find myself trying to draw back to my life all those important people who have somehow slipped away.  I'm so thankful Miriam took the time to find me.  It is a blessing to have her in my life, though truth be told, she was always in my heart.

Coffee Service

"Once you wake up and smell the coffee, it's hard to go back to sleep." - Fran Drescher

When I was a little girl, I found it difficult to get up for school in the morning.  My natural rhythm has always been for late mornings and late nights.  My dad used to bring coffee to me in bed each morning to entice me to get up.  That probably explains my coffee addiction. 

The only times I haven't fueled my morning with coffee were when I was pregnant and when I had chemo.  The smell of coffee sent me retching.  Jacob was only a few hours old when my craving returned and it was only a couple of weeks after chemo ended that my morning addiction kicked in once again. 

For my birthday last year, my sisters bought me a Nespresso Virtuoline machine and a milk steamer.  It is a wonderful luxury and the one single serve machine that I don't have to feel guilty about because the pods are aluminum, not plastic and are completely recycleable.  Until about a month ago, I started each morning with a delicious latte.  The excellence of the beverage also enticed Geraldine to drop over on many an afternoon.  So I was deeply upset when my machine stopped working about a month ago.  I went on-line to figure out what I needed to do to get my machine repaired.  It all seemed like such a pain.  Essentially, I could contact the Nespresso Cafe club which would arrange to pick up the machine and then return it sometime later when it was fixed.  As I have so often been housebound lately waiting for one repair service or another, I was reluctant to engage in this process.  I couldn't imagine being stuck in my house waiting for someone to pick up my machine.  Instead, I decided to take it to one of the few Nespresso Cafes in Toronto.  It is heavy and I haven't been up to carrying it with my sore back but not wanting to put it off any longer, today I hauled it to Yorkdale.  I waited in a long line only to be told they couldn't help me.  If I had the receipt, The Bay could take the machine back.  If not, I would have to call the Nespresso Cafe.  The machine was a gift.  I don't have the receipt.

Upon my return home, I braced myself for an argument.  I called the toll free number of the Nespresso Cafe to be greeted by an agent named Henry.  Henry suggested that we try to get my machine going again through a series of activities that he walked me through.  Unfortunately, no luck. "No worries", he said.  "We will have UPS deliver a loaner to you along with a carton that you can put your broken machine in and a prepaid shipping label.  When you are ready, send it to us.  Once we fix it, we will have it delivered to you by UPS.  Try your repaired or replaced machine out and when you are satisfied that all is right, send the loaner back to us.  Take your time.  No hurry." 

UPS will work with me to deliver the machine at a convenient time or I can pick it up from their depot. Start to finish, the whole repair process will take about two weeks.  I told Henry that I was a bit surprised that they had a loaner program. He explained that as I'm not the only client with a latte addiction, they feel obliged to provide loaners as they don't have a detox program.  I like this company.  Bell, Rogers and Enbridge could all take lessons.