Sheila

 Sheila was a roommate for most of 2019.  Younger than me in years, decades ahead in life experiance she was quite a character. After confiding her life story I understood some of her mental health issues.    Despite sporatic formal education she was smart as a whip and possessed an endearing childlike curiosity.   You couldn’t help but like her.   Out of the blue, she stopped by last week. She had moved to Flour Bluff to live with her sister but kept her Doctors in San Antonio. Insulin-dependent Diabetic her health issues along with rough and rowdy living lent a ruggedness to her beauty.

  I had been worried because her sugar was way out of control in January. She said she ended up in the hospital in a diabetic coma. Doc told her Dad she wouldn’t make it but here she was 7 months later sitting in my living room. "Sheila, you let your hair go white! I like it."  I told her admiringly. She was petite, dressed in cute summer shorts and tank. 

Sheila, "Oh thanks" as she leaned forward and grabbed her knees like an awkward teenager, combed her fingers through her shoulder length hair, rolled her eyes, and looked down. Curling her lips into a controlled sincere smile. 

She looked good but as usual, her anxiety and general unease hung in the air between us. It always made me feel sad for her. She wore suspicion like an overcoat living in various stages of survival mode. 

“Well, Sheila I guess it wasn't your day,”  I said in response to her crisis in January. 

“Nope, it wasn’t my day” Sheila responded in her southern drawl. She tilted her head and with a giggle asked, “Do you know where I left my teeth?”   

Bless her heart. I handed them to her and she was gone. Distracted by a friend that had pulled up in my drive. I watched them talk through my kitchen window thinking she would come back inside. Next thing I knew her car was gone. Just like Sheila to leave without a goodbye. 

I received the news thru a text message from her niece two days later.  Last night Sheila passed away in her sleep. Such a shock. I immediately felt grateful for our last visit. I feel blessed God put her in my path.  I especially am grateful Sheila loosened up her overcoat enough that we could be friends. My loss is heavens gain. 

Casualties of a Storm

When I was in 6th grade one of my favorite friends lived in a white clap board rent house. Built long ago with huge split paine windows covered with home made thick screens and peeling paint. I thought it was wonderful. The two bedroom, one bath sat off  Laguna Shores Road on a piece of land that jetted out into the shallow lagoon.  We would sleep next to her open windows in our baby doll pajamas. Nightly gulf breeze naturally set on 70 and that wonderful Laguna smell only locals appreciate. A few blocks and grassy fields inland my world was sticker burrs and mosquito bites. Her yard was sandy beach and water birds. I thought she lived in paradise. 

After hurricane Cecila hit not only did her house wash away but the whole jetty disappeared. I never saw my friend again.

Looking back I realize her Mom was a single parent scrapping by as a waitress. She probably could not find an affordable house after that so they moved away. My friend sent a letter years later saying an Aunt in Ingram, Texas had finished raising her and she was doing okay.

That was over 40 years ago but seeing pictures of Hurricane Hannah and a flooded Laguna Shores Road brought it all back. Liz, all arms and legs with her long yellow hair, faded splash of freckles across her sweet face. Her Mom looking tired in a snug, white polyester, waitress dress, sandy blond locks in a loose bun. Praying the tips in her pocket would cover the bills. A casualty of the times this was before state mandated child support and so many things young women take for granted now. 

I hope Mrs. A caught a break and Liz has her own piece of paradise. Time marches on and so it goes. kisses