Miss Catherine

There's an 88-year-old lady who lives in our building. Her name is Miss Catherine.

Miss Catherine - and I'm assuming that is Catherine with a "C" - is as familiar a presence as the reception staff. When we moved in last August, I noticed the same elderly lady always in the lobby. Sometimes she'd be sitting on one of the couches or chairs. Other times she'd just stand by the reception desk and talk to whoever was working. I'd often wondered why she spends so much time in the lobby talking to building staff.

I found out one day last fall when I was getting coffee in the club room. Donovon, my favorite reception person, was also there and he told me the building was hosting a party for Miss Catherine to help her celebrate her 88th birthday. He said she had no one to help her celebrate. She'd never married, never had children and didn't even have any family in the area. Her birthday party was lovely - it was a catered affair and there was even a Wii for entertainment. Miss Catherine might not have tried the Wii, but she seemed to enjoy all the attention. We sang "happy birthday" to her and there was a beautiful cake. Though I know her name now, I still haven't talked to Miss Catherine. Maybe I should. Whenever I pass her in the lobby, I smile and say "Hi Miss Catherine", and she smiles and says "hi" back. But I'd love to talk to her and hear her story. It was only yesterday in the club room that I heard enough of her conversation to realize she's from the south.

Why am I writing about Miss Catherine months after her birthday party? Lately, I find myself thinking about her more often. Maybe it's an "about to turn 30 thing". Next month I will hit that major milestone. And I find myself doing what many people do at a milestone age - comparing where I am in my life to where I thought I'd be. Thirty used to sound so old. I can remember my parents being in their early 30s. How did I become this age?

And I confess, as someone who has always said she doesn't want children, part of me fears ending up like Miss Catherine. In 50 years, will I be the lady in the apartment who wiles away the hours sitting in the lobby and talking to whoever is around? I left home and don't intend to return to NL (though clearly much can change in 50 years!). Will I be that woman who doesn't have any family to turn to? Nobody to depend on? It seems infinitely sad to me; I wonder if Miss Catherine is happy with her life. She doesn't seem unhappy - but a smile can hide a lot. All the more reason to get to know her.