Today was gorgeous. The snow hasn't hit Calgary yet and the sun was bright. Judy and I usually walk on Mondays and today we were joined by Krista who is visiting from the island. It was just above freezing when we set out but gradually the air got warmer. Our destination, as on many Mondays, was a coffee shop. We sometimes meet another friend there for a coffee and a chat before we head back to our cars.
We walked and talked in the sunshine and caught up on each other's lives. At one time the three of us were part of a core walking group that trained for the 60 km walk for The Weekend to End Breast Cancer. We walked many miles in preparation and then walked together during The Weekend. There were initially five of us. One has moved to Lethbridge; Krista has moved to the island, and one has faded out of our lives.
The coffee shop was a bit busier than usual when we arrived and, because we knew that another friend would be joining us, we took the table reserved for four or more people. We has just gotten our drinks when she arrived. Quite soon afterward a group of about twenty people came into the coffee shop. They began to rearrange the tables so they could sit together and we offered them the third table from our set of three. They looked like a group of walkers and I wondered aloud which group they were.
When we had almost finished our drinks one of the men brought the table back and said to us, "There, now you'll be able to hear yourselves think." They were quite noisy as a group of twenty people who know and like each other tends to be. We were ready to leave at the same time as they were and as the man went by the table again I asked him what group they belonged to. His answer was, "The Chinook Hiking Club." I realized that was one of the clubs my mother helped found.
I was going to carry on with our walk without talking to them further but I decided I wanted to know if any of them knew my mum and the only way to find out was to ask. When we got outside they were standing in small groups. I approached the man I had spoken to earlier. I asked about my mother by name. They knew her they said. In fact she had helped to found the club. I told them who I was. They called others over to talk to me. One man, whose name I recognized as having taken over the organization of the club from my mother, then told me the rest of the story of the polished stones.
At my mother's memorial service I placed a basket of stones at the back of the church and invited everyone to take one to remember my mother. There were many people from the hiking clubs Mum belonged to there and, at the reception, one of her friends asked if he could take more of the stones. We found the basket and he took a handful. He said he would take them with him on the mountain hikes during the summer so people could leave a stone on some of Mum's favourite trails. Today, in front of the coffee shop almost four years later, he told me that most of the people had left their stones in Ribbon Creek. That was where Mum had wanted them. I don't know how he knew. Maybe she said something about how much she liked that hike or maybe he sensed Ribbon Creek would be a good place. I didn't ask him.
The whole exchange couldn't have taken more than a few minutes. We have been to that coffee shop many times before on Monday mornings and this is the first time we've seen the hiking group. How appropriate on this All Saints Day when we remember those who, while they lived made our lives better, that I should meet my mother's friends.
As we turned to go our separate ways I said to my walking companions, "That just made my day," to which Krista replied, "I think it probably made theirs too."
