"We are," said Adrienne with a dignified air, "ladies that lunch." It sounds luxurious, and it is. There is something Victorian about it, and something post-modern as well.
Turns out we're very good at lunching. Today we shared a delicious dejeuner on the quiet side deck at Stella's: mussels, poutine, beetroot salad. The only thing we ordered two of was cafe lattes.
The kind of long, rambling conversations we enjoy over a shared meal take time. When we arrange to meet, we make sure we both have the afternoon free. We don't always spend the entire time lunching, but we make sure it's available, just in case.
I am definitely old enough to be her mother. I remember her at six, at twelve. Looking into her chocolate eyes, I sometimes see backward through the tunnel of time to the face she had as a girl. That face wore the same expressions: serious, conscientious, thoughtful.
We talk of the most mysterious things, the most daunting and unknowable things. We reveal things we can tell none but each other.
Then something sets us off and we start and we start to giggle. Away we go into gales, laughing our heads off.
Lunches with Adrienne are unique and special. They provide leisurely and luxurious sustenance for body and soul.
Again, a wonderful post, Carol.
ReplyDeleteWe all should be so lucky to have friends that could be our mothers, grandmothers, daughters and grand-daughters. Like you, I am blessed in this fashion.