Just Another Silly Sunday

1. Just Another Silly Sunday
   
   

   My son, under the influence of others, had been painfully rejecting of me, and due to his following  others, I saw neither him nor his three year old daughter for quite a while. I had felt very hurt and sad for a number of weeks, but on this Sunday morning, I was in the mindset to “get on with it” and planned my day accordingly.

   
   

   It was a day in late July but the weather was cool, brisk almost, and felt more like early October. I did some work. I reached out to the young woman across the hall, and we decided to keep our doors opened while we worked, listened to different but compatible music, and chatted upon occasion in a non-superficial way, speaking truths from the heart. Different ages, from different parts of the country, we are similar in being at the crossroads of change in our lives. We cut to to the chase and without pretension shared our fears and hopes.

   
   

   At about 3 pm, I went to the bus stop to wait for the bus to take me downtown. The 4:00 service at my church is warm and cozy with a great quartet, a blues-gospel singer, and sometimes a world famous musician sitting in. The ambiance is lovely, and the people are there to give and to receive, and to gather in community. I waited and waited.The bus was supposed to come in five minutes. Still, I waited. I waited for about 35 minutes. During that time, I texted my neighbor, Semantha. I texted a recent photo of me and my granddaughter taken on the building’s lovely patio. Semantha is moving to another city, and I wanted her to have a momentum of our time together,our conversations, and the lovely outdoor space we share in our building. Immediately, the text was answered, and a texting conversation took place for the rest of the afternoon.

   
   

   I got on the bus and received a call from the disgruntled son, which was aborted as more texts from Semantha were coming in. (I need a new phone!). Fortunately, my son tried to reach me several more times, and we did at last connect. He said he’d meet me outside the church on Michigan Avenue with my granddaughter. I said, “OK,” knowing myself well enough to know I’d blow off church to spend time with them. (Both of  them would have enjoyed the short sweet service and music, but, and this is most of the trouble: the wife rules & would be mad if they had gone. As my granddaughter said recently, “She’s always mad.”) So I blew off church and hung out with my son and his 3 year old daughter. It was a pleasant afternoon. I ignored the texts coming in while I engaged with my family.

   
   

   On the bus going downtown, Semantha had texted she was having a “get together” the following evening at her house, a farewell event, at 6:30. She invited me. After my son and my grand-child left, I wanted to pick up something for the party. I bought 12 Crumbs cupcakes and an extra one to share that eveing. I was  stunned by the price, but quite joyful, as I knew the beautiful cupcakes would be a welcome party addition.

   
   

   Lo and Behold! Semantha, when I knocked on her door, asked, “What party? I’m not having a party!” I showed her all the texts. I had transposed two numbers when I saved her phone number. That whole afternoon, another person had been  texting me and playing me. That is kind of sad. I spent over $50 on the cupcakes. Neither Semantha nor I are cupcake eaters. So, here I was with a frigging load of cupcakes and no party. Moreover, the unknown texter had disconnected calls from my son, increasing the likelihood we wouldn’t have connected at all. A dirty prankster.

   
   

   Semantha did what any sane women would do living in Chicago. She  broke out the vino,we drank lots, talked more, shared a cupcake, and tried to get a handle on this silly Sunday.

   
   

   I learned in my alone sabbatical in Palm Springs that one can make meaningful & deep connections with folks one might never see again.

   So the meaningful connection with a woman young enough to be my daughter, who’d be moving away in a week, I recognized as a transitory, but nonetheless, valuable interaction. The cupcakes, another pleasant transitory occurrence. I will find loving homes for them, before they get dry and crusty. The prankster who texted me all afternoon: these people exist. Maybe he was a lonely old man, just pleased for a moment,  to pretend he had a friend.

   
   

   Relationships are tenuous. I came very close to missing my son’s call. In his need to have a marital relationship, it may be that my son gave up too much of himself, of his own family, of his own values and traditions. We connected for a short time yesterday. It was a good start. My grand daughter wasn’t quite as  at ease with me as usual, after a long absence. But that, too, was a start. Semantha and I used the cupcake fiasco as an excuse to drink too much wine and get to know each other. The prankster texter: well maybe he, too, benefited by having a fake friendship for an afternoon, a fragile reminder of how hard we all must work on keeping  real connections strong.

   
   
   

   Posted 10 minutes ago by Suzannah Speaks

     
2. 
   

   JUL

   17

   
   

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