As I waited for a friend at Katana for lunch today, I overheard a conversation. And I haven’t been able to shake it all day.
These were two old friends. Both women were, by my guess, in their seventies. It was clear they’d known each other a long, long time. The one I could see better was well dressed. Not fancy, but put together. She had short gray hair and thick glasses. She looked like she had a weight on her shoulders.
Seems she is moving away. Away from her friend.
Her daughter, Kendra I think, has insisted she move closer so she can keep an eye on her. Help her. I heard a bit of sarcasm in the woman’s voice.
She doesn’t want to go. She still lives independently. She’s lonesome sometimes – now that her husband is gone. But she has her friends. And a lot to do here.
But she realizes that she will need more support at some point. And that if she waits until then, it might be too late to move.
I felt so sad. And since I was eavesdropping, I had to keep a stoic face. Look busy.
The woman said to her friend that her daughter says she’ll make new friends where she’s going.
And with a sigh I could feel across the room, she explained that while she might make some new acquaintances, she’d never make a friend like this friend. And that when it comes down to it, a real friend will be there no matter what and no matter when. But a new friend will be there if it’s convenient.
And then my friend showed for lunch.