Babs

I had coffee with my beautiful friend, Barbara, today. She is a Greek Goddess who is turning 79 this year. We had not planned our coffee meeting; we never do. I walked into the coffee shop, and there she sat alone at a table for two. She stood out in the crowd, elegantly poised in a gorgeous slate skirt and blouse, with an accented feathered fringed sweater and black heels. Her naturally silver hair sits in a bob style with wisped bangs that intermittently fall forward. Her carefully manicured hands gently push the hair back as she adds a quick flick of her head to the manoeuvre.

I have known Barbara for years as she frequented my parents’ delicatessen when I was just a teenager. We were worlds apart back then; she was a young mother, raising a family, and I was in high school thinking about what I wanted to be when I grew up. I was happy to see her today because we haven’t chatted for a while. We are 30 years apart in age, but it is different now as I understand and respect her great words of wisdom. We both have European backgrounds so I understand her husband’s philosophy of life as I grew up with a father of similar views.

She still lives in her large family home with her husband. She would like to move into something smaller, but her husband refuses, and so she is eager to do what is necessary to meet his wishes by renovating and perhaps closing off some of the house. She laughs as she tells me how ridiculous he is being, but I know that she says this with much love because she thrives on her purpose to take care of him. She goes on to tell me that he will never change as he wishes to die in the house that he is so proud of. Her Greek accent becomes thicker as she gets a little annoyed and explains that this house represents more than a place to eat and sleep. It is everything her husband has worked for; his wife, his children, his extended family. It is a place for his children and grand children to come back to, and it brings him extended joy to be able to provide them with the comfort of space and abundance while relishing in their company.

Barbara tells me that she must be respectful of his wishes, and will not take this away from him because it is what motivates him to get up every morning. Every day, she argues with him about moving, knowing that he will never change his mind. I ask her why she continues to natter at him if she knows he will never budge. I tell her she should not waste her energy.  She looks at me with a glimmer in her eyes and slowly says, “it’s a lot of fun, getting him all worked up; it’s what I enjoy doing”! I respond with a chuckle, “you’re bad Barbara, but I know that you love him and want him to be happy”. “Of course”, she says, “but don't let him know that”! Lovely Barbara........

xoxo