Lois

I love Lois. I'm sometimes afraid to interrupt her if I see her out walking in town, partly because I think she may not remember me, and partly for the very reason that I love her, which is this: Lois is a person who - just by her very presence - will not let you get away with half-living. She invests meaning in every step, looks around and really sees things, and her careful words emerge from hours of solitude and silence. If you do engage with her it has to be in honesty and with depth. You can't really get away with a gift-wrapped life when Lois is asking the questions which, for a woman approaching 90, shows richness of the kind I hope I have if I manage to reach that age too.


Fears of not being remembered are silly. It's been a few years since we last spoke, but I saw her recently and she came over and gave me a beautiful, warm, peace-filled hug, then immediately told me how exhilarating it had been going to the huge Bonfire Night fireworks display in Bristol the night before. She walked up to the park on her own, but enjoyed having thousands of companions there in the crowd, not feeling lonely or afraid. She really lives, working hard to ensure nothing gets switched off or dusty through lack of care or attention.


I love Lois. Just by her very presence you cannot get away with half-living. She won't tolerate it.


{Today's soundtrack on request: Glen Campbell - Wicheta Lineman}