The Vortex live

Sucked back in time once again.  The phone call.  35 years later, I get to hear that Boston accent.  Hear that voice, the laugh, the humor, the heart that is my friend.

Did 35 years really pass?  Didn’t it seem like yesterday?  Are you happy?  Are you healthy?  Tell me about you and tell me you are OK.

All is well, everyone is healthy, happy, and the friendship is still right there.  I’m so happy to have reconnected, and got to hear him again.  It was like we were never apart.

He tried my phone the night before, but had a migraine and was heavily medicated.  The call didn’t last long.  We tried again today and it started something like this:

Bill:  “I’m so sorry that I had that migraine.  They come on suddenly, and the medication is like barbiturates! After we hung up, I felt much better.”

Me:  “So it wasn’t the sound of my voice that gave you a headache, and you felt better after talking to me?  I’ll take that!”

Big laughter.  We were on a roll after that.  So much fun.

But Wendy, aren’t you married?  Aren’t you worried about what your husband would think?  Not to fear,  I got his blessing before the call.  I’ve never stood in the way of his long term friendships, and he was just as gracious with me.

Bill and I were never romantically involved.  I dated his friend.  He did tell me that he had been in love with me.  I was so flattered, and somehow nostalgic that we never took the chance.  I wasn’t the kind of girl who could date a friend of a former boyfriend.  I never gave us a chance.  But that’s they way it was supposed to be.   His wife, Karen, sounds like an amazing woman, and I hope I get to meet her some day.

I think that’s how you know that you truly love your friends.  When you are happy for their happiness, even when it has nothing to do with you.

When we reconnected, he said he had been thinking about me, and when I found him as the suggestion on my LinkedIn it was perfect timing.  I guess in the wild expanse of the universe, we were just on the same wavelength.

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Ode to a pepper grinder

Back in the 80’s, while I was in college and getting my first apartment I had to have a pepper grinder. It seemed so grown up to me.

My faithful grinder of pepper corns has bit the dust after 35 years of faithful service.

It’s been with me longer than my husband, longer than my children, longer than 99% of everything else in my house.

Such a faithful, constant fixture that I won’t part with, I’ll just retire to my treasure shelf and employ another grinder for my daily pepper.

It’s the little things that we get used to. I’m so grateful it lasted as long as it did.