The name Mary is a Hebrew baby name. The meanings of the name are listed as being: wished-for child, rebellion, or bitter. I knew a Mary once and she was a wished-for friend. If she ever felt rebellious or bitter, she deserved an Oscar for hiding it so well. I can only picture the Mary I knew wearing a smile. If someone were to ask me who was the sweetest person I ever met, my answer would be Mary without having to deliberate on it.
Social interaction doesn’t come easy for me. I only learned months ago there was a name for my lack of social skills and other peculiarities; it’s called autism. But talking to Mary was different than with other people. Somehow she made it easy for me. I “wanted” to interact with her. It never was an obligation. Anytime we crossed paths, I knew our cup of conversation was going to be the highlight of my day. It always was.
She has a certain way of listening that always made me feel as if what I was saying was valid. At my attempts at humor, she laughed without my ever having to say, “That’s was the punchline.” I could talk to her about anything and I probably told her more than she wanted to hear about my restricted list of subjects that I wouldn’t let die. Patience must be one of her virtues since I tested it with my long monologs.
It is a blessing beyond measure to have someone you can be yourself with. I wish she had been around when I learned I was on the autism spectrum. I know she wouldn’t have said, “I for one am not surprised”; although, she probably wouldn’t have been surprised. I’m sure she would have been so supportive by listening to me go on and on about it.
She had a New England accent and I had a southern. I loved her accent and would have gladly traded but I don’t think she would have gone for that. We were both never-marrieds; at least, up until the last time I saw her years ago. Maybe a guy has swept her off her feet by now. If so, he’s a very fortunate man. I say that because she’s so good at caring. There’s just not that many like her around.
There is just something about Mary. I don’t have the word for it, but I know whatever it is, it is something very special. When I moved away, I didn’t have the chance to tell her goodbye. Maybe that was for the best since I hate goodbyes. I miss her so much and if she’s reading this, I just want her to know that. And, too, she’s unforgettable!