When I moved in with my best friend I had no idea of the hell I would go through just to park my car. My friend’s condo had one space in the garage for her car. The few outside parking spaces were all assigned to other condos except for a couple of visitor spaces which were always full. The condos were built next to a mass transit center. The lack of extra parking was intentional and meant to discourage people from using cars. Instead, it was just discouraging to car owners like me who had to park across a busy street in another residential neighborhood.
I would vary where I parked each day after work. The neighborhood home owners got peeved at outsiders parking in front of their homes on the public street. They mistakenly thought that only they or their approved people could use the public space since it was in front of their homes. The people with the pristine lawns and perfect flowers were the worst. They would sneer if you parked in front of their homes and would mutter as you walked to the condos across the street.
They all knew about the lack of parking at the condo complex. They had protested it before they were built. They were aware of our dilemma, but seemed dead set on punishing the renters instead of the people who caused the problem. Other people in the condos were in my same situation. We were all vying for the same street space. Sometimes I had to park many blocks away if I came home late.
The nasty neighbors would do things to my car to show their disapproval. My hubcaps were stolen first then, my car was keyed: a long straight gouge through both doors and the rear quarter panel – down to the metal. One day I walked across the street to my car and found that chocolate syrup had been squirted in a web of crisscrossed lines across the entire windshield. Another neighbor smeared grease on the driver’s side of the windshield. It took a lot of scrubbing to get that off.
I found that if I parked in front of a particular small two-story house, my car was left unharmed. Eventually, I saw the owner outside when I parked there. The older woman was watering her sparse flowers and tiny bushes. We soon developed a nodding acquaintance.
“Good morning,” I would say.
“Good morning,” she would reply.
“Nice weather we’re having.”
“Yes. Soon the rain will return though.”
“I know,” my eyes rolled. “Your flowers are doing well.”
“Thank you, but they won’t last much longer.”
“It seems silly to have grass in small lawns,” I commented.
“You’re telling me,” she said. “It’s such a pain to have to water, weed, mow and care for such a tiny patch.”
As an avid gardener myself, I shared some ideas about less labor-intensive landscaping. She was grateful for the advice. It turns out that she was partially retired and didn’t want to bother with the upkeep. We continued with our cursory conversations and our relationship began to deeper over time. I learned that her name was Evelyn and she had a daughter and a granddaughter. She was divorced like me.
“Where are you going every day,” she asked.
“Oh. I manage an in-home care agency,” I told her. “But, originally I worked in the medical laboratory field.”
“Really?” she asked. She seemed surprised and pleased.
“Yes. I worked at many of the area hospitals and private labs over the years.” I was curious why she was interested.
“I have too!” she said excitedly. “I was a transcriptionist for pathologists and other doctors.”
“You’re kidding me. Such a small world,” I said. I couldn’t believe the weird coincidence. I knew many transcriptionists. They were a regular fixture in the labs where I worked, at least until automation eliminated most of their jobs.
“This is so strange,” she said. “I am mostly retired now. I just pick up a few odd jobs here and there.”
When the weather started turning rainy and colder, she would sometimes invite me in for tea after I returned from work. Evelyn was a slender woman. Her flowery clothing hung loose on her slight frame. She had dyed reddish-blond hair and very white skin with pronounced wrinkles. She had missing teeth so she would try to cover her mouth when she smiled. Soon we became friends and I didn’t notice her mouth anymore and she stopped trying to hide it. We talked about our grown kids, the events in the news, and whatever was on our minds.
I told her about my fledgling company that performed home accessibility evaluations for older people. I explained that it was intended to assist them in remaining in their homes longer and safer. I made suggestions to her about obvious things I had noticed about her home; the unsecured rugs, the lack of lighting in some areas and the clutter in some walk paths. I was hoping that she would hire me, but she never did. I eventually got to know her daughter when she came to help out or take Evelyn to an appointment.
One day, I noticed that Evelyn’s car was gone from her driveway. That was unusual. She rarely drove anymore. Newspapers were piled on the front porch and were soaked with rain. I didn’t have Evelyn’s phone number to call and inquire. Weeks went by and I missed her friendly face and our tea time discussions. I pulled my car in front of her house one day and noticed her daughter getting out of her car in the driveway.
“Hello,” I said. “Where’s Evelyn?”
“Didn’t she call you?” she replied.
“No. We haven’t exchanged phone numbers.”
“Well, she fell down her stairs and broke her neck,” she explained.
“What!” I was floored. “Is she okay?”
“She had to have surgery and was in the hospital quite a while. Now, she’s at my house, but has to stay in bed for several more weeks. Her neck is in a collar,” she said.
“I can’t believe it! That’s just awful. Will she be alright?”
“I guess time will tell, but they are optimistic that she will have a full recovery. She was lucky. She could have been paralyzed,” the daughter said.
“Please give her my best and let her know I’m thinking about her,” I added.
“I will,” the daughter said as she entered Evelyn’s house.
Months went by. Fall turned into winter. Then, one day I see that Evelyn’s car is in the driveway. I went to her door and rang the bell. She answered with a cervical collar on.
“Oh, Regina,” she exclaimed. “Come on in. I have to tell you about what happened.”
“Did you daughter tell you that I saw her a couple of months ago? She told me that you had fallen down the stairs.”
“Yes!” Evelyn said, “I sure did.” She ushered me in and started to put the kettle on.
“That’s absolutely incredible,” I said. “And, you survived!”
“Well, kinda,” she said. “I’m recovering, but I cracked several vertebrae and it may take more surgery and lots of physical therapy to get back to normal.”
“Well, I was wondering where you had gone. Tell me exactly what happened,” I said as we started sipping our tea.
“Well, one day I was doing my laundry. I had collected the clothes in a laundry basket and was headed down the stairs. I was wearing only socks, like you told me not to do, and I did not hold onto the handrail, also what you told me not to do. Suddenly, I felt one foot slip out from under me and, before I knew it, I was falling head over heels all the way to the bottom of the stairs.”
“Wow!” I said.
“And, I was thinking of you while I was falling,” she added.
“What?” I couldn’t believe what she was saying. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you know how you had told me about your company and how you could do an accessibility review of my house?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Well, I should have taken you up on that.” So while I was falling, I was thinking, “I should have called Regina!”
“That’s a new one,” I said. I’ve never had anyone think about me while their life was flashing before their eyes. People will literally do anything to keep from calling me to review their home,” I kidded and laughed.
“At least we can laugh about it now,” she said.
We continued to have a good time talking about her accident and her recovery to come. She never did have me review her home. She was going to stop working all together and maybe sell her house and move in with her daughter’s family. I moved from my friend’s condo to another friend’s house where there would be parking in the driveway. We lost touch with each other. You never know who you are going to meet in life. It can be in the most unexpected places; the grocery store checkout line, an elevator, a doctor’s office waiting room, or on an airplane. We meet these people without an agenda or anticipation of anything in return. It’s just happenstance or, is it? I prefer to think that it may be more of divine intervention. I believe that nothing is by chance. I believe that there are people who are destined to become part of your life whether you know it or not, whether you try to meet them or not and whether you even like them or not. They appear and teach you lessons in life that you are intended to learn. Evelyn was one of these mysterious people for me.