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The Frosting on Life

Story ID:1133
Written by:Kathe M. Campbell (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:Musings, Essays and Such
Location:Butte Mt. USA
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The Frosting On Life
by Kathe Campbell

Have you ever had the good fortune to move next door to someone very special? Someone with whom you discovered so much in common. Someone with whom both husbands were outdoorsy and like-minded? And best of all, someone to laugh with, confide innermost secrets, and worship with on Sunday mornings? Someone who cut sweet-scented roses weekly to brighten a nursing home, and soothe my unbearably hot desert days. It was a wondrous time, one that permitted prolific and content years while we perceived our dotage as fair weather.

Then abruptly and painfully, my family was walloped with that awful 'transfer' word. Being 30-year-olds from Puget Sound with no siblings, we vowed to meld our future as sisters. How often does one move next door to a family who proposes parenting your children - God forbid? Oh, there was no bloodletting or rites of passage, just simply a teary, "Good-bye my sweet sister, 'til we meet again soon."

After 40 years, predicting our antiquity as fair weather was not to be as visits saw my Pat struggling with COPD and leukemia. In late summer she selflessly continued setting her grand e-mail message tables with varieties of stationery and music. And then suddenly, there were none . . . and I languished alone. These days I write about a special girl who used to live next door, that certain someone who grew roses and was the frosting on my life.

The thought of a new sisterhood never occurred to me until two much envied women caught my eye in various on-line story sites. Exchanges of fan mail sparked amiable days sharing ourselves, our work, critiquing, and forever fixing my sorry commas. For I was a late bloomer and any writing talent I enjoyed came out of the blue. My folksy fodder spurred pure bliss from living on the edge and perceiving life through bold and oft quirky views. I became a non-fiction short story writing fool and I liked being a rebel. The essay stuff was like a burr 'neath my saddle, it kept me alive and kicking.

I found Nancy to be closer to my age, and eventually the local bear and I enjoyed entertaining her and her husband on my mountain. This gregarious girl forever smiles, is the cook and entertainer, tailgater, bridge player, volunteer, board member, traveler, and best of all, an accomplished author. I have yet to figure out where she finds the time, but it suits her.

The youngster author, Maria, fit in like a warm glove in winter's wrath, snuggly keeping us dazzled with unending accounts of her wonderful Finnish family and their celebrations. Retirement appears to be her current goal, leaving quality time to chronicle more of her interesting past and her beautifully written perceptions on life. She's the youth and glue that binds.

No matter a worrisome day or two, we three concentrate on good vibes and pray for one another. We chat at length about our grown kids, all in their thirty's, forties and fifties. We crow over the grandkid's good, and not so good antics, and we never hesitate to rejoice and weep as life deals out endless bliss, and a few bumpy spots.

And me? Not quite as others perceive me these days I reckon. I'm not the busy adjuster, rancher, politician, board member, pole bender and barrel racer I once was. I'm 74 and alone on this beautiful place now, feeding my soul and putterin', arduously filling my days with more folksy fodder on my keyboard. Always at my side is my dog, and beyond, my donkeys and ducks that I so love talking to and caring for. Just a little old lady who plays a little poker and trucks up and down a mountain wearing soft gray sweats, and allowing nature to send me soaring.

Will they think me a crackpot? Maybe. We're so different in many ways, but our worlds will become enriched, and we will fit. Where else could two lovely urbanites find themselves galloping along an old prune's antiquainted trails? For we have much to say and are sparked by words, roping them into breathtaking imageries. Yes, we'll become one helluva sister act.

And so, like a shy cow poke, stammering and stuttering, begging that all important Saturday night dance, I invited Nancy in Kansas, and Maria in Winnipeg, to be my sisters. I prayed and marked time impatiently for an answer from the two. Two sisters who love the Lord. Two sisters to chat and play scrabble with. Two sisters who agree to disagree. Two witty, charming, and smart women who in the end, never hesitated a moment. Two sisters of the heart whom I dearly adore these near four years now, the frosting on my life and I wouldn't miss it for anything!

~ ~ ~ In Loving Memory of Pat Lowe, who taught me how important a sister is. ~ ~ ~


If you haven't read these related stories, please do.

Story 1071 - Wish Upon A Star by Nancy Kopp - Now in Chicken Soup for the Sister's Soul.

Story 1098 - Dawn's Early Light, by Maria Harden