Tonight, the Matron stepped outside at dusk to chat with her elderly next-door neighbor, Rainy (from Lorraine). Rainy is tiptoeing toward eighty, a number her husband has already visited. They have a healthy -- uh, obsessive - relationship with all the neighborhood feral cats.
Matron: "Just thought I'd say good-night!"
Rene (big smile): "Mary! Do you know what time it is?"
Matron: "Um. . . about 9:00?"
Rene: "No. It's about that time when Merrick doesn't want to be left alone. He wants someone to lay down next to him. Listen!"
And they both stop talking. In that moment between day and darkness, the Matron looked at her house. It was ablaze in light and sound. She heard Stryker and Scarlett running through the house, literally-- footsteps on stairs and flashes in the window. Scarlett's voice shoot out: "Mom? Can I have a cookie? Mom! Where are you?"
There was Stryker, calling Satan's Familiar for a cuddle. The dogs barked, a radio played.
And Merrick: "DADDY DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE SLEEP WITH ME."
Oh my goodness! The Matron's house sounded like a juke box, a giant wind-up toy, all those bells and whistles.
Rainy: "Mary, next thing, Stryker gets mad about something -- a book, the computer, a store he didn't get to go to. We hear it every night."
Mortified Matron: "Oh my God. I'm SO sorry! We'll tone it down!"
Rene: "Oh no! Mary, don't be sorry. We love it so much. Really. It's the best part of our night. You know, Ed and I got married late, 38 and 40. That was really late for those days! We prayed and prayed we would be blessed with children, but it never happened. We weren't so lucky. Oh, we wanted children!"
Here, the Matron once again regroups, searching for those right words. Before she can find them, Rainy grabs her arm. She's crying. Not the big dry heaves or anything, but full, wet eyes and a voice shaking with the emotion and wisdom of eight decades.
Rainy: "It happens so fast, you know. You think the world is ahead of you, anything is possible. And it is! But then one day, your life is nearly over and you know it. There's really nothing other than the day-in, day-out, ahead, forever. One day it all ends and you have wishes, thoughts about what you didn't get or how those dreams died or sort of just got left behind somewhere. That's where I am, Mary. At the end--sort of sad about what I missed out on."
So the Matron and Rainy held hands for awhile and listened to the great big bountiful life coming from the house next door, all those children and so much future--both women, one in her forties and the other nearly twice that age, sitting for a minute, remembering what they've lost or given up on. You don't have to be 80 to see your life unfold.
The Matron still has some future ahead. She'll remember tonight and Rainy, each time she takes a dream off the shelf, dusts it off and tries, again.
16 comments:
What a wonderful neighbor you have!
This is so sad and happy!
Here's to noticing and appreciating the life we're living as we're living it.
*sniff*
You always seem to know just where to hit me.
Ya had to make me cry didn't you?
I've always suspected this was the way of the world, and now Rainy's confirmed it.
Rainy is something else, isn't she. Thanks for touching my heart today - thanks to both of you.
Wow, that was a lovely post. Thank you for sharing some of Rainey with us!
Wow. She sounds really marvelous. And you wrote about her really marvelously.
Please do not take a red pen to today's commment.
Now I have full, wet eyes. Bittersweet.
On a lighter note, I wonder what Rainy thinks of your children's adventures in front yard bondage?
Beautiful. You have to love these moments when life gives you a nudge to appreciate what you have. Perspective.
Beautiful. I think I'll sit back and listen to the life around me tonight. Thank you for this post!
Yes, Jenn-@, here's to Rainy.
How wonderful that you and your family have become a part of Rainy's world - though her dreams for children of her own may be bittersweet, she must feel blessed to be near your children.
My heart just broke into a million pieces. I don’t want to be that 80 year old woman with regrets of what I didn’t do, which means I better get my ass going on my list of things I want to accomplish.
That's why I talked my husband into a third child. I didn't want to be 80 and have regrets that I never had that third baby that I wanted.
How sad for your neighbor. But how wonderful that she lives through the sounds of your busy house and isn't grumpy about it like so many "older" people are.
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