Sheila

Jim and I took a walk tonight to In-N-Out for dinner. On our way there, we passed a neighbor’s house, about four or five houses down, and the lady was outside in her old-lady-dress and curlers. We smiled as we walked by.

We had a nice dinner at In-N-Out and ran into one of the families from church. Then we went to Fresh & Easy to get a couple ingredients I needed to make my Amish Friendship Bread tonight.

On our way home, the neighbor lady was still outside. She seemed to be looking at us and walking towards the sidewalk as if she wanted to say something. She asked if she could talk to us a moment.

Sheila – as we learned was her name – told us about her husband (of 49 ½ years) who had died two years ago and how in love they were. She wanted to tell us about their love because she could see that Jim and I had that love. Sheila and her husband lived as if there was no tomorrow and she wanted us to live that way too. She told of how they would write to each other every night and now that he is gone she reads his words every night with a laugh or smile. Francis, her husband, would complain about writer’s cramp sometimes. She went on and on and gushed about how in love they were. Don’t go to bed angry. Don’t leave the house upset. Francis would go to the store and call her while out to tell her he missed her.

And the dear old lady still had her spunk too. She talked about how her husband would give her a massage every Sunday…then he would get his “reward.” She would realize later that she probably should return the favor and give him a massage, but he was too anxious for the “love making” to care. She told Jim about five times that he should give me massages every week. And she told me that I needed to give him his “reward” when he was done.

I could tell that she was probably a little bit lonely and enjoyed being able to share her stories. She also gave examples that made it clear that she tells stories to probably anyone she comes across. I hope that I can push myself to interact with her more. Maybe bake some stuff sometimes. Remember her at Christmas. Just go sit with her and hear more stories. She told Jim and me that we were welcome to come visit her anytime.