Mini Trip: Part Two

 

Serendipity is a great word. It means ‘happy accident’ or an accidental finding of something good that you weren’t really looking for when it came across your path. That’s want happened to me on the trip I took that was organized by my local senior citizen hall. Here’s the details: After the fish boil and before the sand dunes ride I was shopping in a gift shop attached to the herb garden labyrinth (pictured above) when a woman walked up to me and asked if I remembered her from the Red Hat Society chapter I belonged to a decade ago. Sure I did! In fact, couple of months ago I even tried to find out if the group was taking new members but the national website said that particular chapter had a full roster and was closed. Then the woman called over three other Red Hatters and come to find out, they do have an opening in their chapter. I was ecstatic when they asked for my contact information. It was a fun loving group and I was sad when I had to drop out due to my husband’s failing health.

One of these women had gone all the way through grade and high school with my husband and she got to telling the others about Don’s funeral, and how “it was the best funeral she’d ever been to in her entire life.” That made me beam with pride. I love being around people who knew Don before his stroke because having known him explains a lot about me and how I spent most of my adult life. Anyway, what are the odds of a car load of women from my past and me crossing paths so far away from home and right on the heels of when I was trying to reconnect with them---a million to one? The fact that it happened is serendipity.

Since the main reason I signed up for this trip and other activities at the senior hall is in a quest to find friendships, I was ready to call this trip a success after this chance meeting but serendipity wasn’t going to let me go of me that quickly. When our two buses pulled into the rest stop for a coffee and donut break a woman from the other bus and I struck up a conversation and in ten minutes we learned that we both love art, both quilt and craft, both have no children, grandchildren or husbands, and that we are both looking for someone to pal around with. We exchanged contact information and made plans to be seatmates on the next senior hall trip in September.

On the bus ride home I was thinking about how hard it is for some of us widows to form new friendships in our newly acquired single-hood world. My best friend and confidant was my husband. For 42 years I really didn’t need anyone else to fill that role and it’s been lonely without a sounding board in my life. Sure, I have my blog for sharing my thoughts but it’s too often a one way conversation and blogs can’t hug you hello and goodbye. Blah, blah, blah you’ve heard it all before.

When I’m in the mood to be fair to the universe I have to knowledge the fact that when Don first passed away other people did make overtures of friendship---the phone numbers written in condolence cards, the whispers of “call me if you want to talk” and the invitations to lunch or movies I passed up, etc., etc. Back then I was still living in that mollusk-like shell we widows draw over ourselves when mourning our losses takes over our lives and we play act otherwise. Yes, some of us play act. We walk around like we’re okay. We even carry on superficial conversations all the while wishing they would end so we could get back to our ‘poor me’ thoughts. By the time we get our heads unscrambled and we can drop the play acting, the overtures of friendship had flown off on the wings of time. It’s the way of the world. But it’s also the way of the world that serendipity brings them back again like a summer breezes brings delightful spicy aromas when we’re standing in the middle of a gorgeous herb garden labyrinth. ©