Although this will be the second Mother’s Day we’ve spent together, Katelyn Watkins and I still haven’t figured out which one of us is the mother.
Katelyn, my friend in the night, and I met several years ago at about 2:30 a.m. when I emailed a writing submission to TELEPHONE, an international arts project where she is an editor. Middle-of-the-night communiques are not unusual for me, but getting a response about 15 minutes later was a surprise. Who was this person who also wrote in the night?
Her reply was so warm and interesting that it prompted a reply from me. And thus blossomed a virtual friendship borne from our mutual love for poetry, in general, and Emily Dickinson, specifically. For the next two years, we were in contact regularly, exchanging missives in the wee hours between her desk in Austin, Texas and mine in Altadena.
Although she is young enough to be my daughter, we have such a special connection that my daughter, Sara, has suggested that Katelyn may have been my mother, or daughter, in another life. Either way, we are happy. Two years ago, when Katelyn learned I had a special birthday coming up in May, she decided it was time for us to meet in person. So she and her partner hopped on a plane and made it happen.
We had a warm and splendid Mother’s Day/birthday celebration weekend, and I cried when they left, partly because of the joy we had shared and partly because I was already missing them.
A lot has happened since that visit. Her delightful partner, Andrew, is now her delightful fiancé, and I am looking forward to a trip to Texas for their wedding.
My TELEPHONE piece was accepted and published, and I have a new piece in the upcoming project.
Moonshadows in Malibu, where we celebrated my birthday, burned down in the Palisades fire, as did much of the Palisades and Altadena. My friend in the night cried with relief when I told her my house had been spared.
As I work on my memoir, Katelyn assigned herself as my editor, taking care of details from a distance and sorting out my technical hiccups. In many ways, she reminds me of the best parts of my younger self when the word “no” was a challenge overridden by enthusiasm.
She graciously accepts lemons from my tree that I send her via my buddy Mr. Moon without questioning the how-to behind them. And this year, we will make lemonade together on Mother’s Day.
Katelyn has reminded me that we are never too old to make a new friend or maybe discover an old mother or daughter.
Email patriciabunin@sbcglobal.net. Follow her at Patriciabunin.com.
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