After months of living in a cute cracker-box studio in Paris, French husband and I found a large, bourgeois-style apartment by the Bastille. Since the rent was tres cher (very expensive, and we didn’t want to give up eating,) we rented out one of our rooms to Ellen, who was an American.
Having room-mates in Paris was a rare concept at that time. Can you imagine the eyebrows of the Parisians when they heard we were newlyweds with a room-mate? We were considered the oddest thing since Napoleon tucked his hand under his vest. Plus, we liked peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches, and didn’t smoke.
A couple of years later our paths separated. French husband and I moved to the south of France, and Ellen rode her bicycle solo across India. She was a wild woman.
During the beginning of her amazing journey through India I found out I had cancer. I didn’t have the heart to tell her, knowing that if I did she would ride her bicycle straight to my doorstep. My letters to her (via the American Express office) stopped.
After a year in India, Ellen flew into Paris on her return flight back to the USA. She was going home. In Paris she met up with mutual friends of ours. She mentioned to them that she hadn’t heard from me. They told her why. Without a moment of hesitation, she canceled her flight to the USA, and flew to the south of France. When I opened my door, I didn’t see Ellen, I saw an angel.
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Ellen and her husband, have been here visiting us these last few days. It feels like old times (except we haven’t seen each other in several years and have new roommates called, children….)
Friendship doesn’t change at the roots, it blooms and flowers wherever it is planted and includes you in its landscape.
Photo: 1) Doorbell that reads: "Ring twice for the second floor." 2) A facade in the south of France. 3) This is not Ellen’s bike. Don’t get me wrong, she has nothing against pink girlie bicycles, unless she had to ride it across India. 4) A vintage oil painting of a French landscape, leans on the wall, while sitting in a planter.
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