I love this woman. She’s like a second mom to me. Growing up across the street from her was one of the greatest memories of my youth. Her sons Chris and Willy were my best friends and I can’t imagine my childhood without them. Ted, her late husband, who is immensely admired and missed, taught me a lot about cars and discipline, the latter most often as he extolled the virtues of said discipline on Chris while Willy and I watched from a safe distance. Oh Chris, will you ever learn? I now know, more than ever, that without all of them I probably wouldn’t be the person I am today.

And Mrs. Wilkie,,, she’s legendary. And so is her fried rice. I know cities that have fallen because of it. I know men who have left women behind for it. I have personally betrayed my own flesh and blood with lies in order to keep my hidden rice booty away from them. I would raise suspisions though as I often had to change clothes to keep my secret safe. The sweet aroma of her rice would always soak into my clothes and my sisters could scent it out like a bloodhound on a hunt.
“Weren’t you wearing a red shirt earlier?” Jennifer would ask as her eyes scanned me over for rice artifacts that may have fallen from my lips.
“Yeah, but I changed,” was my nervous response. Because I knew that if caught lying to my younger sister, she could and would kick my ass without hesitation if it was over Mrs. Wilkie’s fried rice.
With a slow turn and a suspicious eye she would walk off. She was on to me. I’d have to be careful.

Yesterday, as we drove down the block to Mrs. Wilkie’s house and my old neighborhood, I heard she had prepared a big lunch for us. I was so excited to see her and at the same time I was already scheming a plan on keeping the leftovers for myself. We visited for about two hours over a delicious Tofu Soup, eggrolls, spicy pork and of course, her highly prized fried rice. I also learned that Chris had stopped by a day earlier and had stolen away the rice meant for me. He came up with some story that he didn’t realize we were already in town and claimed he thought we would be here later in the week. Nice one Chris! But Mrs. Wilkie made up a whole new batch and I’m sure it was even better than Chris’ batch.

We had a fantastic time but had to cut it short because of already laid plans for the evening. During our lunch I sat across the table from her and had tried to come up with a portrait I wanted to make of her. I imagined standing her outside next to her flowers, memories brought back to me while talking with her, but soon I realized that she, just as she was, was how I wanted to make an image of her. And besides, it’s winter and there were no flowers. I like this one best. And when we left, she put a hand on my shoulder and said, “Ronnie, like my other son”.