Scrabble Dabblers

I played Scrabble Saturday night with some of the women who live in my building. It’s become a regular event. On my way downstairs, with bowl of popcorn in hand, I was thinking how wonderful it was, that this little community had formed without any effort. It all started a few years ago, at a going away party for a neighbour I had befriended. I attended somewhat reluctantly, thinking I would just put in an appearance and then dash out with some excuse. I was one of the last to leave around midnight. The women who had gathered together to send Myrna off were fun, interesting and, it turns out, very supportive of each other.

Now we get together a few times a year, to play Scrabble, for a picnic on the beach, to practice our French, or forecast our futures. Sometimes it’s just a couple of us who take a walk, grab a bite or see a movie. We’re not in each other’s faces, but we’re there when someone is sick, or needs their plants watered when they go away. We’ll keep that extra set of keys just in case. We’ll even respond to emergency calls, for example, say someone’s parents were to call in a panic because they hadn’t heard from their daughter in a week and they wanted one of her ever so tolerant neighbours to check the shower to see if she’d fallen and couldn’t get up. I’m just saying, we’ve got each other’s backs and we’re keeping our minds sharp with Scrabble matches.


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