Until We

Arlene moved today.

Susan, her loving daughter, picked her up early this morning. She brought her Mother to the haven of her home hoping to escape any possibility of exposure to the dreaded Coronavirus,

My dear beautiful friend, who welcomed me in Michigan the October night I arrived, tired and anxious from NY, has been a constant source of strength, and will no longer be waiting for me to join her for dinner.

Nor will she join me for a walk in the Mercato. Nor offer to mend my sweater. Nor will she stop again to chat for a Sunday visit with Will.

There can be no question that Arlene is blessed by the warmth of family eager to shelter her in this time of peril.

Yet we, who have learned to love her, her generosity, her constant concern for others, as well as a few unique and lovable foibles, are ever so reluctant to voice a goodbye.

The arrival of the dreaded Covid-19 into the warm sanctuary of our residence has evoked many emotions. Still one we didn’t anticipate is that summoned by the departure of a resident beloved by all.

It was difficult not to recognize Arlene because she was rarely silent. Her warmth was always without restraint and sometimes it was difficult for my friend to just listen to another’s voice. I never felt lonely if I knew Arlene was in the building. I never hesitated to ask her a question or beg for advice. Arlene was always available, and her door always just slightly open.

There was never a problem that Arlene didn’t have time to discuss.

There was never an ingredient that Arlene couldn’t provide from her cupboard or offer an adequate substitution.

The few tears I shed during the time we shared, my friend helped wipe away.

Arlene is a year younger than I, yet her wisdom seemed far beyond my scope of knowledge. As foolish as it sounds, sometimes she evoked memories of my Irish Mother giving counsel.

She and I believe in the same God although we called Him by a different name. We remembered each others holidays and religious observances and Arlene shared her daughter with me on several memorable occasions.

We embraced memories of a NYC that belonged only to us. Hers was the lower east side, and mine crosstown, Hell’s Kitchen.

Once in jest, we were described as the NY Contingent, and now the description must become singular.

Dear friend, travel well. May the wind be ever at your back.

Until we meet again when the world becomes sane,

Anne