Ladies, Ladybugs and Ladyfingers

The last few days, I noticed 2 women standing outside near their cars continuing their conversation from wherever they came from. Perhaps it was a cup of coffee, tea, lunch. Yesterday, I pulled into a spot at my current favorite juicer, The Soup Peddler, and the Love Cleanse.

As I pulled into a spot around 2 p.m. yesterday, Friday, I noticed 2 older women carrying on their conversation and clearly had spent time dining together.

Today, Saturday, in the late morning, I noticed 2 ladies outside our local coffee shop talking in the parking lot. I dreamt up a story that it was the same 2 ladies I saw yesterday that had travelled back in time and are 20 years younger. Vivid imagination.

So I thought and said to myself (because I must verbalize every thought bubble that enters my brain) that it is really cool that women have these connections with other women.

I reflected on my own friendships with my women friends and we can talk for hours about anything and everything. Totally transparent, honest, speaking about things that perhaps are hard to listen to. It’s endearing really.

So this takes me to the next visual that takes me back to my childhood. That these friendships, acquaintances, connects are continuous. It is not unlike when my mom would talk over the low log fence to our neighbor, Mrs. Scala.

I could hear my mom yapping over the fence about whatever the flavor of the day was. Maybe it was about us kids, the laundry on the clothes line (yes, the dark ages, we had a clothes line) or what Mrs. Scala made for dinner the night before.

At that time, I really did not understand how vitally important friendships were. Mostly, I was annoyed that my mother was talking about me when I was in the house, I could hear everything.

The conversation, venting, sharing became a daily ritual, to be celebrated. I could say a lifeline. Mobile conversations, meaning we are not done yet, sharing, caring, listening.

I guess my viewpoint is that these ladies are similar to lady bugs and share recipes for lady fingers. The art of an in person conversation seems like a lost art (like handwriting a letter to a relative). I am grateful for the women, community and connection of our souls.

But that’s another story for another day, the art of the handwritten note.

Peace Out.