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The Memory of Eggs
Updated: Aug 10, 2020
Today, for breakfast, I made myself hazelnut-flavoured coffee, yogurt with fruit, and poached eggs with goat cheese, slices of red pepper and sprinkles of rosemary. It made me think of my friend, Susan.
Susan was my sister’s friend first, and when she moved from Alberta to Kelowna, she looked me up. My children were young then, and I was in University, so life was busy. I don’t remember how many times we saw each other, but I have this one beautiful memory of having dinner at her place. Susan is an artist, and that night she set my children up with paints while I admired all the amazing work placed in her home. Since I was studying fine arts at the time, this was a boon to the heart. Unable to find the work her teaching degree entitled her to, Susan left the Okanagan for Vancouver a few years later. Our loss, their gain.
Years later, when I was writing for an online arts magazine, I interviewed Susan, and that is where I really learned about this amazingly beautiful spirit. To read that article, see the below link.
Susan, in my experience, is unerringly positive, regardless of whatever life deals her way. She also made me eggs.
In the summer of 2017, my daughter went to camp in the Lower Mainland of BC. The camp was put on by a Christian organization called YWAM, and you could say this was a camp for the socially conscious. Leaders took their teenage charges to downtown Vancouver — even to East Hastings Street, where, for those unfamiliar with Vancouver, the bulk of Vancouver’s street population resides. For Sheena, who as of now says she wants to pursue a career which will allow her to help people, this was an eye opening trip. For me, it was an opportunity to take a sentimental journey back to the part of the world where I grew up. I crashed at Susan’s place, in Abbotsford, BC.
That evening, I met Susan’s cats, we dined out at this amazing BBQ restaurant, and we talked and caught up on each other’s stories. Again, I had the privilege of touring Susan’s art work. In the morning, I hauled my guitar out to her patio, sat in a lawn chair while sipping coffee and nibbling fresh fruit, and I saluted the distant view of morning softly waking over Mount Baker with my songs. While I relaxed, Susan cooked up an amazing breakfast of eggs with fresh diced tomatoes smeared with soft goat cheese then sprinkled with a mixed herb spice. Not only was breakfast healthy and delicious, it has become, in my mind, one of the signature memories I have of my friendship with Susan.
Susan and I don’t speak that often. She lives there and I live here, and everyone I know has a busy life. We follow each other on Facebook and Instagram, so I get to keep up with the broad strokes of her life. Still, every time I cook myself this meal (or a facsimile thereof), I think of Susan. And every time I think of Susan, I feel happiness and gratitude for the opportunity to know such a beautiful heart, and to call her friend.
Here’s to eggs, and memory, and friendship.