On my own at a favorite restaurant a couple months ago I sat next to Becky who was dining with her friend Carmen; both of whom were in town for Indian Market.

First, I noticed Becky’s energy which is big in a lovely and sophisticated sort of way.

“She has amazing skin and is so beautiful” I thought.

I drank my wine with half my attention on the woman next to me and petted Emma sleeping on my lap.

I can’t remember who started our first conversation but come to find out we are both highly skilled textile designers. I think I commented on her amazing and highly unusual tee shirt.

Becky tells me her son who had been tragically killed in a car wreck a number of years back had painted the shirt for her and she had never worn it or washed it until tonight; a sacred relic.

I surmised she now was far enough away from her Texas Hill Country ranch and felt anonymous enough to wear it.

My throat constricted in disbelief that this remarkable woman was sharing such searing intimacy with me.

“There are no mistakes sitting next to me knowing about textiles” she drawled in an upper-crustian Texan way.

In the time since meeting Becky in person we have been building a sort of friendship tapestry by email.

Sometimes in life, if we are very fortunate and have pleased the gods, someone comes along with just the right kind of medicine and I see we are that for each other.

She has lost a son and two husbands, manages a large ranch as well as a mother in partnership with dementia.

I sensed her soul was too tired and needed hydration of some sort to counter-act the brittleness.

Steeping in grief for so long, even surrounded by such natural beauty can erase any memory of what it feels like to be held tenderly by life.

My new friend is spectacular in so many ways and it is easy and fun for me to remind her of who I experience her to be. My opinion surely but: a superb talent in textiles and design, painting, writing, style, keeping her family alive through funny and poignant masterfully written books.

She does the same reflecting for me by understanding the particulars of dealing with hardships and what it takes to keep calling up resilience; a gift we share.

She gave me a hat, the wide-brim kind she wears so well and I initially felt it was too big for me. I was unsure I could carry it. She believed I could. It was an excercise in EXPAND TO INCLUDE for me as I put it on and tied the scarf she designed around my neck the way she showed me.

Voila! A part of me bloomed in this hat!

The point of all this is that we need good girlfriends to help remind us who we are when we forget. A downward spiral gains momentum in that direction if we let it do what it wants to do which is go down.

There was a time when I lost myself for years.

To remember I needed to fake it to make it and listen carefully to how those I love were reminding me who I was; what words were they using to describe me?

At some point I heard things often enough that I began to believe.

We all lose ourselves and sometimes need help coming home.

Thank you to those in my life I count on to hold space for me when I vacate awhile.

Thank you Becky, for seeing me the way you do.


8 Responses to “Becky”

  1. Karen on September 14th, 2017

    just perfect . . .

  2. Jennifer on September 14th, 2017

    You look amazing in that hat! And the scarf! Love them.
    Today I gave away some of my baggy clothes and thougjt of you and how happy you would be 🙂

  3. Debra Moody on September 14th, 2017

    “I sensed her soul was too tired and needed hydration of some sort to counter-act the brittleness.” Holy mackerel Cath…You may not be creating textiles any longer, but you sure know how to weave words together; offering your readers a “word blanket” of solace, empathy and contemplation. YOU are the gift that keeps on giving. Thank you. XO

  4. Adele on September 15th, 2017

    Cathy, more and more I see you as the most important ambassador that moves thru our downtown streets luminous
    We are so grateful
    Love the hat and you and your beautiful friend

  5. Adele on September 17th, 2017

    and Emma ……of course xxxxxxx

  6. Becky Patterson on September 17th, 2017

    Me, BECKY, as seen through the multi-faceted eyes of Cathy the Great: No there was no mistake in our sitting 5″ away from each other that day in the Resturant bar. Yes, we “were the right kind of medicine for one another.” As a writer blogger you make us ALL feel we’re NOT ALONE because we can relate our grief to your (eloquent) observations, the need to be impulsive, spontaneous, reach out to strangers, a passerby, to if only briefly touch a human soul with a MERE compliment, smile, hello. It might save our or their life! You are so perceptive. Here’s what you sad about me I didn’t know:
    – I have ENERGY- I don’t have any, suffer from chronic fatigue stress
    – ACENT upper crust Texan accent didn’t know I had one
    -my smooth skin. I hate my crinkle ft neck
    – talking about my shirt my dad son painted. I guess I keep that pain in the bottom of my heart, top of my mind,tip of my tongue. Every compliment comes with. MY STORY
    -Yes. I have a TIRED SOUL. You lit my afterburner on a downward burned out comet.
    -my fav: ” THANKS TO THOSE WHO HOLD SPACE FOR ME WHEN I VACATE AWHILE.” A thread in our “Friendhip tapestry,” Becky.
    Our shared motto of inspiration: TO CREATE BEAUTY FROM PAIN. OR PAIN CREATES BEAUTY

  7. Caren Richardson on September 17th, 2017

    Cathy I am Becky’s friend and sister of the dead dogs in Comfort.
    thank you for bringing her back to life!
    now we can do more good work and drink more wine on the roof!
    I hope to meet you some day.
    hugs and love to you and Emma

  8. Barry on September 26th, 2017

    Your stories are so rich with essence!! It’s where I like to dwell.

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