Sitting across the table from her, I saw the same Kathleen that I knew in gradeschool and high school. She had the same way of tilting her head to the side when she is thoughtful about saying something and she wore the same smile. The warmth and friendliness of our conversation spanned the 40 years since we had seen eachother, a bridge to another time. 

We discovered and learned some of the paths we've taken during all these years. She has traveled, all over the world, it seemed to me. We've both been to Paris.

And we share a love of gardening. Her knowledge helped me to understand some things about my garden. She told a story about some plants she had recently seen in another garden. It wasn't the plants though, really, that anchors our love of gardening. What we share in this, even though we didn't put it into words is the healing power of a garden. It is the way that a garden reinvents itself, the way that plants volunteer, the way they flit from one place to another refusing to be tamed.

We have both had our own life challenges and I admired her for her strength as she alluded to some health issues that she faced. And when she said that even though her husband said she shouldn't be going out to the garden on her crutches, she told him, "but I HAVE to." I completely understood that. I understand how it feels to stand in the sunlight amongst the plants that are watered and thriving and feel that powerful growth taking place, regenerating, moving toward the sun, always. Plants always turn towards the light, gently, they move.

Our conversation came because of our 40th high school reunion. It came as a matter of course, it was something that happened because of something else that happened, as all things are.