Wednesdays with Sarah

“Growing up—really my childhood and teenage years--El Monte, California—Paradise—the air filled with the smell of orange blossoms and lemons. Fields of Avocado trees. The small one acre farm my family turned into a paradise—growing everything we ate—my mother canning food all summer, the cooler filled with jars of food. The rabbit hutches my father built, the chicken pens, the goat shed--the fruit  trees that bore three or four different fruits. Lushness everywhere. The yard turned from a blank span of dirt to grass, rose bushes, all kinds of shrubs that made hiding places. The grass where I lay and watched clouds float by and later vast numbers of war planes, all the neighbors running outside to bear witness.”

 Sarah is 86 years old. We’ve been friends for over 40 years. I helped her into her wheelchair. In her study, she picked up a journal from her desktop, opened to a random page and read aloud, running her finger along the page.