Yesterday I went to see Miss Emily. She looked as though she knew. You could see it in her posture, the way she moved her hands as she made the tea. Each motion was made as though it were precious. Each moment so important and yet so ephemeral, that you had to make yourself notice everything about it, burn it into your mind.
We sat at the little round table that looked out onto her garden. Someone at some time had put in a picture window at just the right spot so that you could look out at the rhododendrons, and the shady grove of ferns that lined the narrow path through to this jungle of beauty to the garage. On the window sill was a collection of small stones and an empty vase. A garden glove had fallen to the floor and lay there so beautifully it looked like a set waiting to be painted.
The smoky scent of the tea reminded me of all the times I’d visited her before. It had been a long time but all the miles and years since then had not dimmed those memories.
She looked at me across the table set with chunky hand crafted pottery. It was the pottery she’d collected over the years. I think every potter within a hundred miles was represented.
Her smile assured me she did, indeed, know and that she was ready. You would never have known that in two minutes or an hour or two days she would not recall I’d even been there.
Thirty years ago at the age of 18, I’d found myself alone and adrift. I was working at the used bookstore on Lighthouse. I didn’t really read that much but I found the old books so interesting as objects that I would spend hours handling and dusting them, and making sure they were on the proper shelves. Miss Jamison came in regularly, always looking for books on the lives of artists or fiction about artists. We would hold them back for her when they came in.
Slowly she came to find out my story and saw the way I looked at the books and cared for them. I guess it was that care that made her ask me if I’d like to come work for her in exchange for a room in her home. She wanted me to help keep the house tidy and watch after it when she went on trips. It sounded wonderful to me because it sounded like a “home”. I took the job.
Oct 2002
