I met Dorothy last summer. I hang out on my front porch a lot in the summer time. Well, they are more stairs then an actual porch. I spend too much time outside when the weather is nice, but jeez, I love getting freckles.
Dorothy is in her 80's and lives across the street or well, parking lot. She has a small white dog, I have NO idea what his name is because she calls him by his nickname more than his real name. His nickname is Boo.
I'm either reading or stitching when I'm sitting outside. Dorothy is a huge fan of reading, that is where we found common ground. She asked me one day if I'd like to go through some of her old books that she was giving to Goodwill. Duh! Of course! Reading a book and talking about it with someone is a great conversation.
I go over to her house and she hands me a grocery bag full of paperbacks. I reach inside and grab one. FABIO Romance BOOKS!!!! (Side note: I read books on history and lots of C.S. Lewis) Whoa! What am I suppose to do now?
I understand lonely. Not only through experiences of my own, but through watching my Grandma get older and not having a lot of human contact. I saw lonliness in her and what sweet older woman should be lonely? I took all of the books and have read several of them so when I go over to visit her we have something to talk about. Has this turned me into a crazy romantic? Negative, my friends. Romance is far overrated. I'll stick to wearing my heart on my sleeve all the while being hopeful that I can be the change I want to see in the world.
Dorothy, I think, is my number 1 fan. I get her copies of McCall's Quilting Magazines each time we put out a new issue. She thinks I'm some sort of famous person because my picture is in the magazine. "Oh Tracee, I'm so lucky to have a friend like you! Look at your beautiful picture in a magazine!"
I think Dorothy will be very excited to get a quilt and I can't wait to give her one, with of course, a few dozen romance novels to read as she cuddles underneath it. Which, I'm going to guess, in turn will end up back in my hands for future reading pleasure. I do have to admit I read 50 Shades of Grey, that book will stay far away from that dear sweet woman. Unless, she's already read it. Now, that's a uncomfortable thought.