TUESDAY: The Wisdom of Lily and the Fishbowl

BY ANNE PATTENS

Copyright is held by the author.

IN THE spring of 2024, I stayed at the hotel where I spent my first honeymoon. I was on my way from my home in Whitehorse, Yukon to Port Carling, Ontario to attend a writers’ retreat at The Sherwood Inn, hosted by Brian Henry. As part of the lengthy journey, I had to spend a night in a hotel by Toronto’s Pearson Airport. In 1978 the hotel was considered quite posh, and, at the time, I remember feeling quite grand to be staying in such a place! I was keen on revisiting the hotel, but when I entered the lobby, I discovered that I did not remember much at all. Not about the place, and not about my honeymoon either. Not a problem. All the best to let things go.

In spite of a very luxurious bed, I had a terrible sleep. I fretted about a dozen things that have long escaped my memory. First and foremost, however, I was nervous about meeting up with my brother who was driving me to my destination early in the morning. I finally gave up trying to squeeze out anymore sleep and made my way down to the lobby in hopes of finding a decent cup of coffee. After a minute of searching, I located the coffee shop crammed into the back corner of the lobby like an afterthought. The lineup was long; the food display case was next to bare and the lone person working was run off her feet. I got into line and waited my turn.

As I approached the order station, I spotted a goldfish bowl on the counter. Sad place for a fish, I thought. No choice but to endlessly swim in circles, never getting anywhere, never moving on. Fortunately, there was no fish trapped in the bowl, just a jumble of cards. They were the sort of card you get at a florist shop to slip into a forked holder so you can send a message to the recipient of your floral thoughts. Beside the bowl was a jar of pens and a stack of blank cards. Instructions read as follows:

“Leave a happy thought
Take a happy thought”

While waiting for my coffee, I picked up a pen and a card and considered what I might write. I’ve never been good at this sort of thing — like writing a message in a greeting card. I never know what to say. At that moment, my coffee arrived and instead of leaving a happy thought, I took one. I stuffed the card into my back pocket as I watched my brother pull up. Beyond a few texts every year, I had not spoken with him in a very long time. I hoped we might enjoy catching up in person, but I knew he was not in a great head space due to recent personal trauma. I was determined to stay positive. The conversation was polite, but by the time we had travelled for an hour, we had pretty much exhausted our topics and we tumbled into silence.

On the upside, we were beyond the city, past Barrie and into Muskoka! As a child, I spent time there every summer at a cottage on Mary Lake in Huntsville. As we drove further north, lakes and rocks took over from urban housing and shopping malls. The change happened quickly and with that change, I could feel myself relaxing and my lungs opening. So Lovely!

I had all but forgotten the jewel green of springtime leaves and how sunlight sparkled on the water. On this windless day, the pillowy white clouds gracing the sky were reflected on the glassy surface of the water, a perfect mirror image. By the next lake, a breeze picked up and I smiled watching boats tethered to docks bobbing in the surf and straining at their ropes like a dog on its leash. Boat houses dotted the shore; their open doors waiting to catch and release any watercraft coming or going. And of course, a Muskoka chair perched on a lakeside rock looking to the horizon. All it needed was an occupant in the requisite Tilly hat, a writing pad and pen on their lap. A cup of coffee steaming on the arm of the chair would complete the picture.

The Sherwood Inn was welcoming and warm. It was in a lovely, treed setting right on the lake. I have a thing about older buildings and this one was beautiful. I could hardly wait to explore later! My room looked over a large deck and beyond that to the lake. Once in my room, I sat on the bed and considered the ride with my brother. It had left me feeling quite sad. With time before the retreat started, I changed into more comfortable clothing thinking that a rest would do me good. As I dropped my jeans on the chair, the card from the coffee shop fell out of my pocket. This was the message:

                                                             “You
are
Lovd
Loved

Lily Elliot”

Based on the writing, it was hand-printed by a child of six or seven years of age. I could imagine her standing there, her tongue held in just the right position to form the letters.

As we travel through each day, we never know how the little things we do or say are going to impact the world around us. Somewhere along her journey, Lily left a note for some stranger to tell them they were loved. My lucky day! I really treasure that she didn’t feel any need to get a new card and start over because of a spelling mistake. Lily knew. Mistakes are OK. Everyone makes them. We move on.

And in that moment, with Lily’s lesson in mind, I moved on. Three blessed days of writing in a beautiful place were ahead of me.

And so Dear Lily, wherever your travels have taken you, I wanted to say a heart-felt thank you. I don’t know how I ended up at the same coffee shop as you and I don’t know how you came to write this card, but I have it now. It is tucked into my bedroom mirror. Now, no matter what is going on in my world, every time I look at your card and your message, my spirits soar and I recall those beautiful spring days I spent at a retreat in Muskoka, writing and learning to let go.

***

Anne Pittens lives in Whitehorse, Yukon with her husband Michel, daughter Christie and Swiss mountain dog, Gryphon. Recently retired, Anne is enjoying a slower pace that provides lots of time to pursue writing. She and her husband take their motorcycles all over the Yukon highways and their boat over the Yukon waterways. Anne is putting the final touches on her first novel and has begun work on a second story.