No one is as they seem
But one wonderful lesson it appears we can learn only as we grow older is nobody is quite as they seem. Ironically, it took her insightful photographs to convince me to take a closer look. But once I did, I began to appreciate that beneath her perfectly poised exterior was a woman facing the same life challenges: the changing dynamic of grown children leaving home and its effects not only on your relationship with your significant other, but on how you see yourself. Admirably, she was meeting those challenges head-on, redefining herself as an artist and taking her family through it with her. Not only could she use a friend, she needed someone who could meet her halfway between the woman she once was and the woman she wanted to be.
The trip to St. Martin proved to be a revelation. Not knowing her all that well before agreeing to join her for the week, I admit to having been a little apprehensive. But when I arrived — not only did she greet me at the airport with a cocktail chilling in a black top hat full of ice — here was this woman, whom I had thought might somehow be too straight for me, who was clearly up for anything. The house she was staying in was on a dark, windswept hilltop in the middle of nowhere. Yet she was living there entirely on her own, braving the crazy winding roads at night, and would fearlessly approach anyone, from a snotty French waiter to a toothless farmer hawking vegetables, with a big, warm smile. Every morning, no matter what we’d been up to the night before, she woke full of energetic plans for the day ahead. Only a couple of years ahead of me on the road of life, my new friend was proving to be not only great company but a bit of a guide. I resolved then and there that, just like her, whatever I might want to do, it was never going to be too late for me, either.
This too is what the intense spark of new friendship has taught me: I might not be a teenager anymore, but I am hardly past the best-before date for adventure. Thanks to my new friend, I am wearing cherry-red Swedish clogs and learning about fine art photography — and still going on road trips to places I’ve never been with the stereo loud and the windows cranked wide open. Sure, my fifth decade might be fast approaching, but I can still fall in love with someone new.
This article originally appeared in the November 2008 issue of More
