Three short weeks ago, we arrived home from our latest adventure to the Netherlands. I soaked up the architecture, canals, imperfection, and flowers. The boys soaked up fragrances, football, history, and pastries.
One of the best parts of our trip was visiting Majella in Voorburg and hearing the story about how she became one of our dearest family friends. Now to hear my dad tell it, he met her on the beach in Holland while he was backpacking in college.
To hear Majella tell it… is so much better.
It’s 1969 and Majella is on her honeymoon with her new husband, Barry. They’ve gone to the shore, not far from where she lives now. I think it’s called Scheveningen. Majella and Barry are sitting on the sand with her brother, chatting, when she notices a foreigner just down the beach.
She tells me he’s very good looking and she thinks he’s American. They need a reason to talk to him. Her brother needs a light for his cigarette and decides this will be a good way to engage this lone foreigner. Majella is convinced this guy is not a smoker, but her brother goes over and strikes up a conversation.
Before you know it, she’s invited George home for dinner and over fifty five years later, my boys are sitting at her dinner table. Jacob and Nate appreciatively wolf down chicken, potatoes and garlic aioli (they’re still talking about), and currant parfaits for dessert. Over dinner we learn about all of the friends Majella has made from all over the world. She brings out letters I wrote her from Spain and the “Dammit Doll” my grandmother made. Majella is outgoing and joyful and full of laughter. Her hospitality unmatched. And what I love most is her curiosity. She notices foreigners. She sees people who are different. Newcomers. Strangers. And what she sees, is a future friend.
An entire world full of friends.
