Today, while it poured rain in Ottawa, I saw an older woman waiting for her bus. She accepted my offer of a drive. She is 91 and was on her way to a local mall to meet her husband, who lives in a nursing home, for their monthly date.
She was thrilled to learn I was from Nova Scotia. She was born in England and as a young woman, during World War II, she was deeply in love with a boy named Kit who, coincidentally, also hailed from Nova Scotia. Before he was shipped off to Italy, Kit asked her to travel to NS to meet his family if he didn’t make it. Well, he didn’t so she kept her promise. When she arrived at Pier 21 in Halifax, she was warmly welcomed by Kit’s family. She gave them all Kit’s possessions, save three diaries he wrote while in Italy. She finally summoned up the courage to read them just last year and then donated them to the Canadian War Museum.
She is a fabric artist, mostly quilting and embroidery. She told me she does it because she can, because her eyes are good and her hands are strong. We became fast friends. She invited me for tea and I can’t wait to see her again.