When I moved away from Texas, I left behind a dear friend with whom I shared a birthday. A charming widow who opened her home–and her teapot–to lone souls like myself, Katy was a woman who always inspired me.
To memorize poetry. To collect art. To tell stories. To invite people over for tea. To send handwritten notes in the mail. To pray. To use china.
When we said our goodbyes in 2008, Katy was excited for my new journey, though she confessed to being concerned about who would take over my trusted position in the alto section of our small choir–the one who faithfully pointed my pencil to keep her at the right spot in the music. I was sure someone would dutifully take my place, as Katy had quite a following in our community. She was beloved.
For the first few years after I moved, I received regular letters in the mail from Waco, Texas. Her beautiful scrawling script on the envelope made my heart sing, and I cherished her words, her encouragement, her wisdom. I wrote about her.