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The story of LYDIA.
Lydia Lousteaux was my friend. We met through our
children when they were small, when we lived in Mexico, D.F. Her youngest son, Alexis (pronounced with the French
inflection on the last syllable), would come over to play with my sons. I didn't know where he lived exactly, but he
was a cute kid and full of energy. He called me "Aunt Millie" and I found that quite amusing. Most of us in
the complex were single mothers, or divorced women, I realized my neighbours and I should get to know each other better, so
I started to bake pies, cakes and cookies and other goodies and invited them over for tea on Wednesday mornings. Lydia, Jill
and I became fast friends and Jill and I remain friends to this day. Jill and her family moved to MN., Lydia and her
family to CA. and I moved to TX, after the big earthquake in 1985. Lydia wanted to do so much and never had the means
to do so, even though in her youth she lived a priviledged lifestyle. We would have some wonderful philosophical discussions and took several trips together with (and without) our
children. I assisted her in acquiring her glasses and much needed dentistry when she was going through hard times. Lydia
was a smoker and died of lung cancer several years ago. I miss her so much! (I still set out her cup for coffee
in the morning, since we always had coffee together, we would meet at the Cathedral in the Square of
Tlalpan, after taking our children to school, we would buy a "torta de tamal" and walk home for coffee and conversation.
During my last conversation with her I told her that I would dedicate my life to learning in her name. I see everything
for her, learn for her, love for her. She lived a short and incomplete life, or maybe it was as complete as it was supposed
to be this time around. ???
:-)
My life and actions are dedicated
to her memory and my goal is to see every sunrise and every sunset for both of us.
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THE LAKE ISLE OF INNISFREE
by W.B. Yeats
I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine
bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping
from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And
evening full of the linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low
sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's
core.
Love Yeats, as I do?
Access the following YAHOO Search Page for more..
http://search.yahoo.com/search?fr=slv1&p=W.B.Yeats
Your contributions are welcome. Send me info, links,
mail. "We'll Talk!"
LL
:-)
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