Sophie's Story

     Wednesday C and I made a pilgrimage to the Ft. Snelling Cemetery. Evie's daughter told me that Evie would be buried out there with her husband.     I didn't want to go, but needed to. I found out about Evie's death with a phone call. There was no obituary, even on the funeral home website. Due to Covid restrictions there was no funeral, memorial service or burial I could attend. When this happens it seems a little surreal. There's nothing concrete to hold on to.    Honestly, I don't think I would have wanted to go to any viewing. I wouldn't want the last memory of my friend to be a casket shot. I'd rather remember her sitting at Buca enjoying her meal or sitting at her kitchen table eating a chicken leg. However I needed something to make this real for me. This meant a trip to Ft. Snelling.     Military cemeteries are wonderful things. They are neatly laid out and have good online maps so graves can be found. I knew the name of Evie's husband so all

     A few years back when C and I started a project of organizing the store room downstairs, I made some discoveries. One of them was a large bin of lotions, soaps and body sprays. I knew where this bounty had come from. These were relics of my earlier life when I was single. I liked to go to Bath and Body Works and the now defunct Garden Botanika to buy lotion, bubble bath and bath gel. I loved to indulge in a nice long tub soak followed by a good moisturizer and some scent. Many times I would find a scent that I liked and buy a lot of it knowing that it would probably be discontinued.   A job change and a move found my stock of bath products packed away. Eventually my lifestyle no longer included those leisurely tub soaks. There was just not enough time for them. The bath products stayed in their bin downstairs in the store room totally forgotten.    Until that day a few years back when they were found. I had mixed feelings about the bin. On one hand it was like finding a old friend

     I was surfing You Tube looking for a video to listen to as I brewed a pot of tea. One of the videos that came up was a conversation between Anderson Cooper and Stephen Colbert on the subject of grief. I was curious so I watched it. The two men discussed the fact that both of them had lost their fathers at early ages. Anderson's father died when he was 11. Stephen's father and two brothers died in a plane crash when Stephen was ten.    One thing caught my ear. At one point in the conversation, Stephen remarked that you sometimes have to be grateful for the things that you wish had not happened. I stopped to ponder that for a moment. You have to be grateful for the things that you wish had not happened.   Grateful, for the things you wish had not happened. That doesn't make any sense. There is a reason why you wish something had not happened. Stephen went on to explain that these can be a gift. Something that helps you later on in life.    I'm sure he didn't real

     I didn't recognize the name on the caller ID so I didn't pick up the call. The caller left a message. I looked at it. It was Evie's delighter. I called her back right away. I was pretty sure I knew what this call was about. Ever since Covid started I had called Evie once a week. The past few months I had called her on Thursday. That way I would remember to call her and not get sidetracked by other things. When I talked to her last week she sounded really bad, much sicker than I had ever heard her. She wasn't even out of bed yet. We spoke briefly and I told her I'd talk to her next week.     I dialed the number and the daughter answered. She wanted to let me know that her mother had passed away the day before yesterday. It was the news I was expecting. Evie had said last week that she knew why she was so sick. She said her body was shutting down. She knew.     I honestly had not thought that Evie would stay alive as long as she had. She'd fallen a bit over a

     C held out a small box of chocolates to me. "I'm sorry this is so small," he said. "I wanted to get the larger box I usually get for you, but the prices have gone up." I couldn't believe he was apologizing. There was no reason for him to apologize. I would have been happy with the four piece sample pack.     A bit of backstory is in order at this point. When C and I met, he was a musician and managing a small coffee shop. He was starting his life over again after a rough divorce and several bad choices. He didn't make much and he wanted to treat me as a true gentleman should. Our first Valentine's date was Culver's, a local fast food restaurant. He was embarrassed, but it was all he could afford.     I wasn't upset. To me, it didn't matter where we ate Valentine's Day dinner, what mattered more is that we were spending it together. I happily ate my hamburger and fries. He gave me a small tealight candleholder in the shape of a he

     I've been getting invitations to join a book club for quite a while. I've always found an excuse not to go. I didn't want to drive to the house of the hostess. I hadn't read the book. I wasn't interested in the book that month. I had to work the evening of the meeting.   I was starting to run out of excuses. The group is now online and they were reading a book that interested me. I decided this was the month to join in. It was too late for me to read the book they planned to discuss. There was a documentary based on the book. I watched it. Reading the book would have been better, but at least I wasn't totally unprepared.  Nervously, I logged in and joined the meeting.    It was smaller than I expected. There were only six people logged in including me. A couple more joined in late, but the total was less than ten. Pretty soon it was clear that I had "read" the wrong book. This was not the way I wanted to get started. The book they were discussing

        Vice President Harris and I have several things in common. We both married late in life. We both married men who had been married and divorced. Our respective spouses both have children. This means we are both step mothers. (By the way, Dr. Jill Biden is also a step mother, because she married a widower with two children.)   She is called Momala because she and her stepchildren did not like the term step mom. I'm not fond of the term either. Another person who dislikes the stepmom tag is Gisele Bundchen who prefers "bonus mom"   I'm not a fan of the term either. Thanks to Disney, the Brothers Grimm and countless stories from those who have suffered at the hands of their fathers' wives stepmothers are considered to be root of all evil in blended families.    What do I call myself? I can't do something like bonus mom or Momala because most of my step children were adults when I married C. I was never a mother to them in the traditional sense. We've p