Rita

  ‘You know, that walker is still squeaky,’ Ina declared without turning.  Mustering her courage, throwing back her shoulders, then thinking better and slumping ever so slightly, she turned to face the only person who ever scared her.

  Two titans of the feminine spirit squared off over the stove.  Standing a foot shorter (at least), Estelle leveled Ina in her sights and announced, ‘I need coffee.’

  Appearing out of nowhere, a hand cradling a cup of hot java beckoned Estelle to the table.  Every inch of her five feet towering over Ina who had noticeably diminished in stature, Estelle squeaked her way to the table and took her java without a word.

  Owner of the hand?  That was Rita, master sleuth, who slipped in unbeknownst to the women, made coffee and withdrew into the background, quietly amused.

  'Rita,' you ask, 'Who is she?'  I start with the caveat; I have a dear friend Rita.  With the exception of the sweet smile barely masking a quiet amusement with life, these two Rita’s are not one and the same.  I met the Rita in this story nine years ago, when she was a babe of 86.  

  Rita learned in life to walk unnoticed in the world, thereby creating space for her to live safely inside her self.  Last we met, she determined to finally share with her friends that her interests were, had always been, in women.  Loveworthy had finally convinced her that she would be safe with them.  I have yet to learn whether she shared, or carried, that secret forward in time.

  And some would say they are plagued by Rita’s mischievous spirit, namely Hazel, for Rita finds humor in everything, including the daily standoff between Ina and Estelle.  Rita is unflappable and amiable, even more frustrating for Hazel who can't not love her, despite her antics!