France celebrates the end of World War II on the 8th of May.
Over twenty years ago, when we first arrived in the French village where we live, an elderly woman came to our door. She introduced herself as Annie and said to me:
"When the Americans liberated us years ago, I never knew any of them to say thank you. I heard you are an American, and since you are the only American I have ever met, I want to say thank you to you for your country's helping us."
Annie's home was up the hill from where we lived; she walked past our house daily as she went on her daily walk. If we were in the garden, she would stop and say hello.
When my Mother and Father came to visit, and after several wonderful weeks, they prepared to leave, I was sad. I didn't want them to go, I knew they couldn't stay, and the reality of having my heart in two places stung. Knowing Annie lived down the road, my mother could see a friendship blooming and nudged me, "Be kind to Annie; show her what a good friend you can be. You will see us by your side whenever you help her or show her friendship. Whatever you do for Annie, you do it towards us too."
It was the most loving advice to give; I knew that in loving Annie, I was also loving my Mother and Father; in doing that, the gap between California and home felt smaller.
(The photo was of Annie's hand when we went to Lourdes.)
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