Pat Skene
Henrietta Livingston-Hanky wanted a man. Not just any man, but someone she could spend the rest of her days with. She removed her glasses and sat at her dressing table, brushing her greying brown hair. Is it too late for me, she thought, looking at her aging reflection?
Chapter One
To say Henrietta was slim would be an understatement. At sixty-four, she had the body of an adolescent – no boobs to speak of, no aging belly to complain about, and no bum to fill out her ‘slacks’ as she called them. Food was never important to Henrietta - as a matter of fact, there wasn’t much that was important to her anymore. She moved through her days like a robot and went to bed when the day was finally over.
Henrietta had a man once – well, for a while anyway. When she was forty-eight and had given up on ever finding someone, a friend sent her on a blind date with Peter Hanky. There were no sparks between them, but they were compatible enough, and the pair fell into easy conversations. Henrietta enjoyed sharing dinner and a bottle of wine together, and in no time, she considered him a suitable enough alternative to being alone.
Peter was a lawyer in his mid-fifties at the time and had never been married. He leased space for a small office on Cornwall Road, specializing in family law. Peter was good company, but there were also things Henrietta didn’t like about him. For one thing, Peter Hanky had no sense of humour. None! Plus, he was only 5’6”, which was shorter than Henrietta. At 5”11”, she was used to towering over most people and felt shallow, judging him by his height. It didn’t help that he wore clunky elevator shoes with lifts and heels that gave him an extra two inches.
When Henrietta told her best friend Sue that she wished he were taller, Sue just laughed and asked, “Does he have money?”
“Yes, I think so,” Henrietta replied with a grin on her face. “He’s been practising law for a long time and seems to live quite frugally.”
“Well, they’re all tall when they stand on their money, honey,” Sue told her, which made Henrietta nearly choke on her chardonnay. Her friend had a bon mot for every occasion.
What bugged Henrietta the most about Peter was that he was a cheapskate. She cringed when they were out for dinner with friends, and he stalled when the check came, hoping someone else would offer to pick it up. Peter visibly stiffened when he had to reluctantly reach for his wallet.
Henrietta convinced herself that his cheapness wouldn’t matter to her because she had money of her own…lots of money! Neither of them disclosed their financial situations, and Peter just assumed Henrietta supported herself with her job as a Chartered Professional Accountant. Little did he know that Henrietta Livingston was of the logging industry Livingstons. With her family all deceased, she’d inherited the many lumber mills they owned across Northern Ontario. Like many wealthy people, she was very private and didn’t disclose this information to anyone who didn’t need to know. That included her new boyfriend.
Then one day, about three months after they met, Peter asked her to marry him. Henrietta recognized back then that he wasn’t perfect, but she was pushing fifty and saw this as her last chance for a partner. She was sure they had enough in common to keep the looming years of loneliness at bay.
As soon as she agreed to marry him, Peter told her she would have to sign a Pre-Nuptial Agreement to safeguard their assets in case things didn’t work out. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from laughing. If only the cheap bugger knew. But Henrietta was lonely and decided being with Peter Hanky was better than nobody, so she agreed. They had a civil marriage ceremony in the Town of Oakville Council Chambers the following month with only two friends to witness. Peter said they could put the money to better use than spending it on a wedding and honeymoon.
Henrietta spent the next five and a half years of wedded bliss, not exactly in wedded bliss. Her new husband had no sense of humour, and while they had interesting discussions about art, history and politics – they never talked about intimate things, like who they were as people. They knew little to nothing about each other’s family background – they simply shared a living space. Henrietta wondered if this was normal in a marriage.
Peter also drove her nuts with his quirks…like how he scheduled sex on the calendar for every other Saturday. Henrietta suppressed a cruel smirk every time she saw him in the floppy, wide-legged underwear he wore to bed. She thought he resembled Mickey Mouse, with his short skinny legs in those boxer shorts and fluffy wool slippers on his feet.
But the worse thing of all was his stinginess. What was a mere affectation when they met became a dominant force in their marriage. Before meeting Peter, Henrietta had travelled extensively and loved to explore new places around the world. Sometimes she joined tour groups, but mostly, she travelled alone. She was comfortable finding her way around using local transportation and meeting new people along the way. It had become a passion in her life, but Peter refused to spend money on travel.
“We have everything we need right here in Oakville,” he would tell her when she suggested a trip. “We don’t need to go anywhere else.” Henrietta longed to travel again but would back off just to keep the peace between them.
Then there were the buffets! Henrietta hated going to “all you can eat” restaurants with him because after he finished eating ‘all he could eat,’ he would return to the buffet table for more food. Then he loaded it all into the plastic bags he kept stored in his overcoat pockets. His frugality was endless, and Henrietta was sick of it. Henrietta began to think about divorce. She felt like a failure giving up on her marriage so soon, but maybe, just maybe, being with Peter wasn’t better than being with no one after all.
Chapter 2
Peter and Henrietta never merged their finances after they were married. They kept their own bank accounts, and both contributed a monthly amount to a joint account to take care of their household expenses. That seemed to be working well for both of them.
One day, Peter sneaked into Henrietta’s home office and rooted through her desk. He was suspicious of her secrecy about her finances, even though he would never disclose his own. She seemed to be forever attending board meetings or closing herself off in the den to take calls. He found a list of shareholders for Livingston Lumber and felt his heart pound when he saw Henrietta’s name as the biggest investor. Henry’s hands were shaking, and pools of damp sweat seeped through the armpits of his shirt when he stormed out to the living room.
“What’s this?” he demanded, waving the papers in her face. “Do you own stocks in this company I don’t know about?”
Henrietta looked up from her book, “What are you doing going through my desk?”
“Well, it’s a good thing I did, or I would never know what you’re up to,” he replied, slapping the documents down on the coffee table.
“Fine!” she said belligerently. “My family owned Livingston Lumber Yards, and since I’m the only surviving member of the Livingstons, the business was passed to me about ten years ago.”
“You’re one of those Livingstons?” he barked, gawking at her. His face was flushed, and beads of perspiration glistened on his forehead. “You didn’t think that was something you should have told me?”
Henrietta smiled. “Why should I?”
“Because you’re my wife, and that means I have a vested interest in the company as well. We’re partners Henrietta.” His eyes bugged out, and he was yelling now, clearly pissed at her.
“You had me sign a Pre-Nup before we got married to protect your money from me,” Henrietta fired back. “You didn’t give me a chance to include you – you excluded me! So, all’s well that ends well,” she said a little too smugly.
They didn’t speak much for the following two days. Then Peter came home and announced he was taking a trip with a friend.
“Paul invited me to go on a deep-sea fishing trip to the Turks and Caicos. He’s already paid for the airfare, and he has a time-share villa there. But the guy he was supposed to go with threw out his back and can barely move, so I’m taking his place. It’s a free trip, and I fly out with Paul on Saturday.”
“Great, have fun,” Henrietta mumbled, leafing through her magazine.
When Saturday arrived and Peter lugged his suitcase to the door, things were still tense between them. “This isn’t over Henrietta,” he said. “We’re married, and I want to be a part of your life in every way. And that means we share finances.”
“Ain’t ever gonna happen Peter,” she said quietly to herself as the door closed behind him.
Well, that was the last she ever saw of Peter Hanky, because two days later he fell into the Caribbean and a shark ate him for dinner!
As told to her by his friend Paul, they’d planned to go out deep-sea fishing. Peter offered to pay for the excursion as his contribution to the trip. But instead of hiring a proper fishing charter, Peter being Peter, hired the cheapest boat and local guide he could find. There were only three of them in the small creaky vessel…Peter, Paul and the young guide who was about sixteen years old. Paul paid for a lifejacket, but Peter wouldn’t shell out the few extra dollars for one.
Paul said they hit some unexpected rough seas, and the small boat was straining against the crush of the ten-foot swells. The guide told them it was too rough to fish, so they were talking about going back to shore. Peter was seasick and barfing over the side of the boat when they hit a particularly big wave. The sudden impact caused Peter to let go of the gunwale, and he was catapulted overboard into the raging waters of the Caribbean. Paul and the young island guide struggled to maintain control of the boat and quickly lost sight of Peter in the churning waters.
The boy dove into the angry seas to find him. But after many attempts, all he found was his wallet floating nearby. The young guide was near exhaustion when he finally flopped back into the boat and gave up. It was like Peter had sunk straight to the bottom.
Paul said, “He had on those heavy elevator Frankenstein shoes he always wore, and maybe they weighed him down.” He shook his head, “Typical Peter - he bought a floating wallet to protect his money but wouldn’t shell out for a lifejacket for himself.” Paul told her that he and the diving boy sat for a long time, bobbing up and down the massive waves, staring into the water.
Then Paul said their hypnotic state was interrupted when a couple of fierce-looking bullnose sharks began circling their small boat. He told Henrietta they abandoned their efforts to find Peter and headed for shore to advise the local authorities. After a more rigorous search operation by the coast guard, it was assumed that Peter had drowned and most probably been eaten by sharks. There was a lot of red tape involved, but eventually, the Turks and Caicos Islands Police Force closed Peter’s file.
That happened eleven years ago when Henrietta was fifty-three years old. Peter’s body was never found, and it took seven years to declare him legally dead. Henrietta felt she was still living with his ghost, but she never missed him. She cringed at being so disrespectful; Peter had died a horrible death. Henrietta admitted only to herself that all she felt was relief instead of grief at having him gone.
With Peter’s new knowledge about her money, she could only imagine the legal gymnastics he would engage in to get at her bank account. Yes, Henrietta thought - dealing with divorcing Peter would have been much more painful than dealing with his death. She wondered what kind of a person must she be to think that way?
It took another couple of years to probate Peter’s will, and it turned out Peter did have over two million dollars in the bank. Henrietta wanted nothing to do with his money, the money he never wanted her to have anyway. She set up a fund for annual grants to be donated to several Oakville charities, including The Salvation Army, the Canadian Red Cross and Halton Women’s Place.
Chapter 3
When the business of Peter was finally finished, Henrietta was still alone, not trusting her judgement to get into another relationship – not that one ever presented itself. After retiring from her job as a CPA four years ago, Henrietta was bored and lonely. That’s when she started thinking maybe it was time to find someone to finish out her days with. Next year she’d be sixty-five and eligible for an old-age pension.
“Good grief, how did that happen?” she asked the older woman looking back at her.
Henrietta got up from her dressing table with a sigh and dressed for her class at iGita Hot Yoga Studios. When she slipped on her jacket, she felt something in her pocket. It was a little bottle with a bright red ribbon tied around the neck and a jewelled heart on the cork top.
“What the heck is this?” she said, examining it. There was a message rolled up inside. Henrietta had no idea how that bottle got into her pocket but was curious to see what the message said. Prying the top off and rolling out the slip of paper, she read:
“Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is You-er than You.” Dr. Seuss
Henrietta was delighted at finding the little surprise in her pocket. She read it again and thought about the words while on her drive to the yoga studio. There is no one alive who is You-er than you.
Who am I anyway? she asked herself.
Henrietta couldn’t calm her monkey-mind as she went through the yoga postures with the class. Instead of concentrating on the Upward-Facing Dog and relaxing into the Downward-Facing Dog, she was having flashbacks about her life. At the end of the class when she was lying in ‘Shavasana,’ known as the corpse pose, Henrietta asked herself something. Who was I before I met Peter?
Henrietta was an only child and had become accustomed to being alone. She had filled her life with things she enjoyed. But it was like she’d faded away while she was married to Peter, having given up big parts of herself because Peter didn’t want the same things.
Before Peter, no one questioned her choices. Her colleagues may have thought she was a bit of a strange duck, but they accepted her for who she was: a private and intelligent woman who wore classically tailored business suits and comfortable pumps. Few people knew she had wilder passions that extended beyond the columns of debits and credits in the accounting firm.
A few years before she met Peter, Henrietta had purchased a beautiful home in South East Oakville on Chartwell Road. She saw the MLS listing and had fallen in love with the ultra-modern design - reminiscent of homes designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. The simple, clean lines of the geometric home, nestled in an array of blue spruce and red maples, suited her perfectly.
Henrietta used to have two pet spider monkeys that lived happily in the recreation room of her house. That was before the Oakville By-laws prohibited people from having exotic pets. She loved Popcorn and Oliver, but when Peter sold his condo and moved in with her, he said they were disgusting and insisted she get rid of them. (They could be rather disgusting, but Henrietta loved them in spite of their unsanitary habits.)
Then there was her beloved Harley-Davidson. Henrietta had ridden badass motorcycles for years and felt alive when she was in the saddle with her helmet and leathers on. The wild side of Henrietta’s private life was in direct contradiction to who she was in public. Once when her car was in the shop, she drove her motorcycle to work. Everyone crowded at the window when she pulled up, and the office was dead quiet when she walked in. No one said a word, but the room was filled with side-eyes and curious looks.
Peter thought it was most plebeian and unladylike to ride a “hog,” as he called it. He didn’t say much until they were married. Then he told her it reflected badly on him, and was ashamed of his wife, riding around like a biker chick. Henrietta caved to his wishes and bought a grey Volvo.
It wasn’t long into their marriage before Henrietta had given up everything…the monkeys, the motorcycle and of course, the travelling. They were the parts of her Pre-Peter life she had loved the most.
Henrietta left the yoga studio and got in her car to drive home. “So, Dr. Seuss,” she said out loud. “I may be me, but I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m not the person I was, and I’m bored senseless with whom I’ve become.” Henrietta thought hard about this and decided that maybe finding someone to share her life with would combat the loneliness and help her to discover who she was again.
“It’s time to get to work and do something bold,” she said to herself rather fiercely.
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Henrietta decided the first thing she needed was an overhaul and booked herself a full day at the Epiphany Spa for the works. A good scrub, rub and polish were exactly what the makeover doctor ordered.
The spa day arrived and Henrietta was getting a pedicure with her eyes closed, enjoying the ambient sounds of the soothing spa playlist du jour. The lovely young technician interrupted her zoned-out state by asking, “Miss Hanky, would you like me to wax the hair on your toes?”
Ditching the cucumber slices on her eyes, Henrietta bolted upright! “What did you say?”
“The hair on your toes,” the technician repeated. “Would you like me to remove it?”
“I have hair on my toes?” Henrietta said in disbelief like she would make such a disgusting thing up. “I can't see that far down,” she insisted. “I have slight cataracts; I didn't know I had hair on my toes. How long has it been there?”
“I don't know,” the attendant said in her spa-soothing voice. “But don't worry, just relax, and it will be gone in a minute.” She proceeded to wax away the big hairy deal with the speed and diplomacy of the professional she was. Then she quickly followed up with a leg and foot massage that made Henrietta forget her bushy phalanges and put her right back into a Zen state of mind.
Henrietta finished the day with a hot oil massage and a facial. She left feeling relaxed, rejuvenated and as slippery as a mango pit, making her Hobbit feet a thing of the past.
As Henrietta drove home with her newly waxed toes, she thought about women’s obsession with body hair and wondered why we find it so unappealing? She remembered reading that many women hide their depilatory secrets from their partners, too embarrassed or ashamed to admit they have high maintenance routines to keep themselves basically as bald as baby kangaroos.
Surely, she thought, older women don't go baby-kangaroo crazy in their plucking, shaving and waxing pursuits. But with hormone changes, there were always a few surprise visitors in the mirror. Henrietta had noticed pesky little hair follicles popping out in unforeseen locations, like her chin, nipples, knuckles and upper lip. And now she’d have to do regular reconnaissance on her toes against the bumptious little marauders as well.
Of course, she thought, she could always embrace her outer hairiness and let sleeping follicles lie. But Henrietta wanted to meet a new man, and she suspected the best way would be to keep the forestry down. As she pulled into her driveway, her mind wandered into wondering what she would morph into if she were deserted on a South Pacific island with her favourite heartthrob. She grinned as she imagined herself in a bodice-ripping embrace with a romantic castaway like George Clooney.
Surely, a year under a palm tree in the Pacific would have a few beauty consequences besides the sunburn. Depending on the speed of hair growth multiplied by genetics and dominant genes – Henrietta thought her appearance might be more be-whiskered than bewitching. Her eyebrows would spread slowly into a mono-brow, and she might be braiding her armpit hair to keep it out of the oyster stew. Would she still want to frolic on her Hobbit feet into the crashing waves on the beach with her beloved George? Would he still whisper sweet and salty nothings as they did the beach tango, like a couple of hairballs in love?
The image made Henrietta chuckle as she opened her front door and headed to the kitchen for a snack. She sat with her blueberry scone and cup of Lapsang Souchong tea, looking at her list of what she had left to do before making her move on the dating scene. She had to pick up new eyeglasses with tortoise shell frames from Terry at Barclays of Oakville. And she made an appointment at the Uptown Hair Spa for highlights and a trim. Henrietta was more sure every day there was a mature and interesting man out there waiting to find her and sweep her off her feet…her fully pedicured, non-hairy feet.
And then there was her name. Against her better judgment, she had given into Peter and taken his last name, hyphenating it with her own when they married. Nothing ever came from a hanky except snot and tears, so she started the process to change her legal name back to Livingston.
Henrietta walked over to her mantel and picked up the little message in a bottle, and read it again:
Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is You-er than You.
“Give me time Dr. Seuss,” she chuckled. “I’m working on finding Henrietta. Do I need a man to do that? Probably not, but it would be nice to have someone along for the ride.”
Chapter Four
Henrietta looked at the new Henrietta looking back at her from the cheval mirror in her bedroom. Her new bobbed hairstyle flattered her narrow face, and the blond highlights accented her blue eyes.
“I look amazing even if I say so myself,” she said to her reflection, turning her body this way and that. “Why didn’t I do this a long time ago?”
But there was still no man in the picture. It’s not like Henrietta had gone looking exactly. She didn’t know where to start.
Her friend Sue had been widowed for several years when she found herself a man. They met in the hot tub in her condo, and after a steamy romance, they moved in together. Sue was now living the charmed life of a woman in love, so Henrietta asked her friend for advice.
“There’s nothing like a new man to put a spring back in your yoga pants,” Sue told her. “But are you sure you want to give up your freedom? You’ve been a lone wolf most of your life…well, except for that five years of insanity married to Peter.”
Henrietta looked at her friend. “I’m going to be sixty-five this year,” she said. “Old age pension, sensible shoes and joint replacements. I think I’d like a partner to slide down that cotton-head hill with me.”
“What about online dating?” Sue asked her. “It’s the best way to meet available men, and my friend Pearl just found her soul mate on one of those sites. She’s walking around with a big smile on her face these days, so I’m assuming she found a keeper.”
Henrietta’s online search began. She created her profile on several dating sites that catered to men and women over sixty. She answered their questions, including her likes and dislikes about drinking, smoking and what she was looking for in a partner. They wanted to know how far she would travel to meet someone and Henrietta kept things close to home. Then she uploaded her best photo and waited.
Henrietta spent $4500 over three months trying to find the man of her dreams. Most of the men who contacted her were nice enough, and she insisted they meet via Zoom before meeting in person. Once they passed the Zoom test, she would agree to meet for a coffee or lunch, depending on her level of interest.
First there was James. He was a retired Air Canada pilot with a deceased wife and only one ear. The Zoom call went well, so they agreed to meet at the Palermo Pub for lunch. Henrietta didn’t judge him by his missing ear - she was fine with that. But when he put on his glasses to read the menu, they kept slipping down one side of his head. Henrietta nearly choked on her virgin Caesar when he casually took out a roll of scotch tape and taped the temple arm of his glasses to the area of his missing ear. He just kept talking while he did this as if it were perfectly normal thing for a one-eared man to do.
Next, there was Robert, who also seemed very nice on the video chat. They talked about Broadway plays they’d been to in New York, the food they enjoyed, and they both shared a love of old movies. Then just as the Zoom call was ending and they were discussing where they would meet – he asked her what her sexual preferences were in the bedroom. That was the end of Robert.
There was one guy who would only agree to meet if he came to pick her up in his car. He was out. And there was Jerry, who said his job was posing as a child pervert to catch the true perverts online. She couldn’t even imagine what they would talk about over dinner, so he was eliminated as well.
Those two were followed by a string of men who somehow passed the Zoom test but failed at impressing Henrietta when they met in person. There was Albert, who insisted on calling her “Henny” – like Henny Penny from Chicken Little - and ordered pizza at the Hungry Dragon without even asking what she wanted. That was a red flag of annoyance.
Then she met Bruce, who showed up at Tim Horton looking like Elvis, complete with sideburns and sparkly shirt because he was on his way to the Collingwood Elvis Festival. He insisted on singing “Love Me Tender” at the table for her…and a room full of gawking coffee drinkers.
She met Mark, who could only talk about video gaming and Louis, who she spotted picking his nose as she approached the table at The 3 Brewers. She wouldn’t be “picking” him for a partner anytime soon.
After all the losers and weirdos came Afonso Silva. By that time, Henrietta had pretty much given up on ever finding someone online. Afonso was charming on the video screening chat, so they agreed to meet for coffee at the Kerr Street Café. He got there first and stood to greet Henrietta when she walked in. He was a bit shorter than Henrietta with a good build and completely bald – quite handsome in a Jean Luc Picard kinda way. She judged his age to be the late sixties.
Henrietta could tell right away that he carried himself well and looked like a man who didn’t need to ‘stand on his money to feel tall,’ as Sue liked to say. Afonso met her with a big smile on a pleasant face, and Henrietta noticed his grip was warm and dry when they shook hands. A nice change from the many sweaty handshakes she’d endured lately.
Afonso was originally from Portugal and had moved to Oakville about thirty-five years ago. He set up a successful kitchen renovation business on Speers Road and had recently retired, passing the day-to-day operation on to his oldest daughter. Henrietta learned that Afonso was skilled at woodworking and still kept busy with custom orders for the shop, telling her that he loved the comforting smell of sawdust and oil.
Henrietta had travelled to Portugal a few times on business and pleasure. She told him it was one of her favourite countries in the world. They talked about Portugal, the incredible port wine cellars of Oporto, the beautiful beaches in the Algarve and many delights of both Old and New Lisbon - which he pronounced “Leeshboa.” The coffee date turned into a three-hour marathon with plans for dinner the next night.
Some men give their dates flowers. But when they met for dinner at Piano Piano, he had a box of Portuguese custard tarts for her from Ola Bakery. Henrietta was thrilled.
Afonso told Henrietta he’d been happily married for forty years and had a big family of children and grandchildren. But his wife had died from a heart attack almost five years ago, and he was looking for someone to fill the hole in his life. Henrietta wasn’t sure she wanted to be a “hole-filler” in anyone’s life. But Afonso was so interesting and easy to be with that Henrietta decided she liked this man enough to see him exclusively. She took her profiles down on all the dating sites she’d joined, and Afonso did the same.
While they continued to enjoy each other’s company in the following months, Henrietta found herself holding back. There was something deep in her gut that made her pull away from getting too far into the life of this beautiful man.
“You wanted to find a man, and now you’ve found one,” Sue told her. “Is there something wrong with him? Do you think he’s scamming you?”
“Oh no, nothing like that. He’s authentic, really nice, fun to be with, and we always have so much to talk about,” Henrietta told her friend. “And he makes me laugh! It’s just…” she trailed off.
“Just what? Too short? Too tall? Has he got both ears?” Sue chuckled.
“It’s none of those things. It’s me. I don’t know if I’m ready to have a full-time man in my life after all.”
“But that’s what you’ve been saying for months. That you wanted someone to share your life with, to find yourself again,” Sue persisted. “Maybe you’re just scared he’ll turn into Peter,” she added.
“No, I don’t think so,” Henrietta said thoughtfully. “There are things I had hoped to do in my life, even before I met Peter.”
“What things?” Sue asked her. “You mean like a bucket list?”
“Yes, sort of,” Henrietta said thoughtfully. “I think I need to find myself before I commit to someone else. Commitment means compromise, and I’m not ready to do that just yet.”
Henrietta continued, “All this time, I thought meeting a man was what I wanted, but I don’t think it is. I think I need to be me for a while, then be with someone if that works out. But not now.”
“Wow, lady! Look at you! You know you could lose him while you’re gallivanting about trying to find yourself, don’t you?” Sue told her.
“Yes, I know, but I feel the need to ride solo right now. I’d rather lose Afonso than lose myself again in a relationship I’m not ready for.”
Sue gave her a big hug and said, “Then you go girl and do what you need to do.”
Chapter 5
Henrietta explained to Afonso that she needed time to herself for a while and that she wanted to travel a bit. She didn’t invite him along. He was disappointed this new woman in his life was pulling back, but he asked if they could stay in touch while she was away. Henrietta liked the sound of that and promised that she would.
Over the next six months, Henrietta set off on her adventures, coming home between trips where she would brief Afonso on her travels. She was slowly checking off her bucket list and finding pure joy in her freedom and new experiences. She felt herself coming alive with each new adventure.
The first thing Henrietta did was something she’d always wanted to do. She flew to Churchill, Manitoba, for the polar bear migration. Every year, hundreds of polar bears wait in and around the town of Churchill for the bay to freeze, so they can walk on the ice to hunt for seals. Henrietta was perched fifteen feet in the air in the tundra buggy and felt her heart pounding as she watched these incredible beasts of winter.
From there, she flew to B.C to ski Whistler and Blackcomb Mountains for a week and then on to Florida, where she took a thrilling ride on an airboat through the alligator swamps of the Everglades.
Her next stint was a longer one, where she travelled to Thailand and visited several of the floating markets and ancient temples known as “wats.” She purchased a stunning dress in emerald green Thai silk, which Henrietta thought was the most beautiful thing she had ever owned. She visited the summer palace in China and struggled to keep up as she climbed The Great Wall – which was much steeper and more challenging than she had ever imagined. She visited the casinos in Macao and boarded a sampan to tour Aberdeen Harbour in Hong Kong.
Henrietta left Asia and went to a bullfight in Spain and ate paella until her stomach felt like a sack of lead. Then she was off to Portugal, where she drank Vino Verde and ate huge platters of shrimp at a restaurant Afonso had told her about in “Leeshboa.” While she ate, she listened with tears in her eyes as the female singer, draped in a black shawl, sang the mournful and melancholic lyrics of fado. On her last day there, she took a cooking class one afternoon and learned how to make perfect Portuguese custard tarts as a surprise for Afonso.
When Henrietta came home after all that travelling, she wanted to write about her experiences. She joined a creative writing class at Sheridan College and began to put her thoughts and experiences into written words, so she could share what she learned. The book would be called Flying Solo: A Woman’s Guide to Travelling Alone.
Afonso greeted her warmly when she returned, and they continued where they’d left off. They had a good friendship and that would carry them through the days ahead, in one form or another. Afonso was a wonderful addition to her life, but he wasn’t the only thing. That was an important distinction for Henrietta. She had found herself again, so she wasn’t about to give up her freedom any time soon. That seemed fine with Afonso; with his woodworking hobby and a large family to keep him busy, he had other things besides Henrietta in his life.
Henrietta Livingston was feeling different now, inside and out. When she started this journey, she felt like she was facing the last chapter of her life. Now she felt like she was embarking on a new stage with unlimited possibilities in the next chapter of her life. She’d come a long way since that day when she wondered if it was too late for her to find a man to fill her days. Henrietta learned that it wasn’t up to any man to do that; it was up to her.
“Thanks, Dr. Seuss,’ she chuckled.
“Today I am me; that is truer, I see. There is no one alive that is Me-er than me.”
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