They were there when I arrived. Two ladies of an age to have that white blond hair, heads bent towards one another, sitting at an outdoor table at Barnes and Noble, talking quietly. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they were very much engaged in conversation. Dressed casually for the very hot weather we are experiencing this first week of June. Two friends, meeting for coffee, or tea, to catch up and enjoy one another’s company. I was envious as I passed them. I would like a friend to do that with.
I went on into the store to browse for books. I was by myself, as my friends take an act of congress to pull together for an outing. We dither for ever to set a date as they are traveling, going to doctor’s appointments, or like me, involved in volunteer activities. A close friend who, as a part of a trio, can no longer engage in these types of meetings as she has to be on-call for her husband who is in poor health. The third member has died. I don’t know my newer friends well enough to call up and say, “let’s meet for coffee.” Maybe sometime.
I’ve been following the blog of a recent widow. She has a plethora of friends with whom she meets for all sorts of activities on a daily basis. There is rarely a day she is at home, by herself. I get the feeling that she met with these friends on a daily basis before her husband died, and he was often included in the gatherings. I have nothing like this in my life. My days as a widow would probably be very lonely.
Friends and family all seem to be busy with their own lives to go to movies or dinner or just to meet for coffee, which I would like. A friend and me, our heads bent towards one another, sitting, talking quietly. Like those ladies at Barnes and Noble. Who were still there on the patio when I left with a couple of new books.