Life is trouble...

Margie and I have both had big events since the last time we met. Her best and oldest friend, also 93, died last Wednesday while I was in Arizona. They reared their children together, and their daughters, Callie and Lucy, now in their 60s, have been best friends since they were toddlers. So naturally Callie came to spend time with Margie and Lucy as she processed her mother’s death. “She came to us, and we laughed and cried and talked about her mom and about her, and about what she’s going to do now. She has been her mom’s primary caretaker for about the last five years, so suddenly her life has opened up. Suddenly she has choices about where to live and what to do with her time. I was glad for my daughter to have this run-through of what she’s going to have to deal with when I’m gone. Callie left yesterday and went to spend a few days at the coast, walking on the beach and assessing her options.”

About my situation, Margie was wise as always. “Your granddaughter is proof that resilience is possible. She and her beautiful little boys are your hope, right there. For your grandson’s children, you have done what you could do for now. You have to let go and trust that something will change. You have to be humble, because you can’t fix it, and the authorities aren’t fixing it, nobody is fixing it. Sometimes there is no fix. I know it’s hard; you’re a rescuer by nature. But you’ll be turning 75 this year, so it’s just not reasonable. Even if the parents and the authorities agreed to it, it wouldn’t be a good idea. But there is also this….” She gestured to Arnold and his paper flowers.

At the table in front of us, there was my old friend Arnold, the paper flower maker I’ve been photographing since 2012, building his flowers more adroitly than ever and making little “magic” tricks with the paper to the delight of a year-old baby who was watching him (Extra also). 

“See,” Margie said, “magic. Delight. It’s right here alongside the suffering. That’s how it always is. Life is complicated.” 

I said she reminded me of Zorba the Greek: “Life is trouble. Only death is not.” Margie bought one of Arnold’s flowers and I made a few photos for him to use in his publicity.