My friend Sandra passed away tragically in May of 2003. It was such an extreme shock to get the phone call that she never made it home from her vacation in England. She had been infected with the Streptococcus bacteria that rapidly turned into the Flesh Eating Disease. In a few short hours after getting on the plane to return home, she was gone.
Her laugh still echoes in my head sometimes. She had a wonderful sense of humor, a biting wit that matched well with mine and she was just fun to be around. We both loved to cook and there were many food experiments done in our kitchen when we shared an apartment in Halifax. We enjoyed cooking together so much that we eventually started a small catering business.
Recipes were followed or created, heavenly smells wafted under our door into the hallway and many bites were nibbled in order to perfect those recipes. As we noshed on the fruits of our labor, scattered bits of food would inevitably fall onto Sandra’s chest. She was a well-endowed woman and she always referred to her cleavage as the “continental divide” because everything would end up there eventually.
As I was making my coffee this morning, I casually looked down at the sweatshirt I am wearing and noticed the stain directly at the entrance of MY continental divide. I heard Sandra’s laugh before my laugh passed my lips.
Some memories will always find their way back to the present and those are the ones you never want to forget.