“Gerri, you ever taken a selfie?”
Gerri’s an old friend from back in the Bible study days. She started coming right in the middle of Revelation chapter eleven, the same night we all met at Norma’s house. She was shaken up good that night. Her 18-year old grandson, Dylan, had just been in a horrible car accident. He was hanging onto life in the Barnes ICU. No one knew if he’d make it or not. We were all so happy to see her there.
Gerri Schnitker. That’s her all the way to left.
She’d stopped by Norma’s on the way home from her weekday morning gym walking. Norma and I were gathered for a morning of sewing and laughing and Hazelnut coffee. Neither one of us said anything but in the back of our minds we know I’m getting ready to move and we aren’t gonna be able to sew together anymore. So instead we talk about how Norma needs to start a Facebook account and we’re gonna switch crafts and make each other write all the stuff we keep saying we need to write down.
Norma and I invited Gerri to pick out a mug and pull up a chair. She said the same thing we all say and need to say more of. “Well, I really should be getting home to get started on my soup, but, well, okay!” A few minutes later her husband Rollan came by looking for her. Rollan’s a whole nother story. He’s the only man I know mischievous enough to wear bright red pants to church where he always makes a point to tell me I look pretty as always. Since he was there we figured he may as well stay. I told him I wanted to hear his seasoned expertise on this latest national election we’re watching unfold.
After Rollan shared his impassioned opinions (my favorite kind) and told us a few stories from back in the day he got up and left. At that point Gerri remembered her potato soup and that, well, she really should get going on that so she’d have something for her and Rollan’s lunch. That’s when I asked her if she’d ever taken a selfie. She hadn’t.
Well, I said, today is your lucky day. “You, me, Norma. We’re taking one. We need to remember this.” The three of us gathered on the couch. All the while the boys played quietly on the floor. We smashed together as close as we could. I took Norma’s iPhone and held it up and aimed. I knew something didn’t look right but I couldn’t put my finger on it in those split seconds. I told everyone to smile and snapped the picture.
We thought we’d laughed hard that morning but this was something else.
I’m framing it.