Salt of the earth. Clean blue eyes, freckles and thick, spectacular hair the colour of chestnuts. I’ve known her all my life. We first met at the tender age of two, at the École Bilangue preschool on the outskirts of Boston. Her father Belgian, her mother American (with flawless French), and then my father of course believing his girls should learn a proper language. Sliding doors.
Our family moved to the same idyllic little town, just a mile apart, and that was it. A happy coincidence of same time, same place. We rode our bikes in summer and sledded in winter, through the seasons and the years. We featured prominently in each others stories, shared our innocent schoolgirl secrets and a bit of mischief. She was diligent, I procrastinated. She was logical, I was fiery. She learned French, I never did. Happy days. Our first apartment together after college echoed, but there were those lovely hardwood floors. Work, love, eventually geography had us going on separate paths… but we are still there for each other and our story is far from done.
Do we all have someone like this in our lives? She’s my person.
She’s now settled in Idaho, they rock-climb and camp in the warmer months and ski hard in the winter, they live pure lives, with nature a close companion. Clever, calm, thoughtful, a bit self-deprecating, and so beautiful.