As I comb out her beautiful white hair she reminds me to take her hearing aids out before I spray it.
She has family coming in from out-of-town so she wants to look her best.
She asks me to find her favorite pearl necklace out of her jewelry box and as I hang the pearls around her neck my mind goes back over the last eleven years of our friendship.
We have joked for years asking, “What did God think an eighty-two year old Italian Catholic would have in common with a thirty-one year old hillbilly Bible thumper?
I met Landi eleven years ago when I moved in next door to her.
When we first met she’d pop over unannounced, tap on the door, walk in and call out my name. I remember the first time it happened I was making my bed and thought to myself:
“Did she really just walk in?”
I was a little ruffled by it, I mean in our generation we just don’t do that. We have our privacy walls and fences for a reason amen?
I remember one day in particular when she came by, she asked, “Would you like to come over for a glass of my husband’s homemade wine?”
I politely declined being I’m not a drinker and she looked up at me inquisitively asking, “Why is it because you’re Baptist?”
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