The Stillroom

Quite some time ago when we lived in Saxonburg where I had my Stillroom Shop, every morning as I was opening up for the day, I would see this woman walk by.

The first thing that I noticed about her was that she was tiny in stature and older with fire red hair. Her skin seemed almost translucent and she never smiled. She walked kind of fast and with purpose and always carried a plastic bag in one hand.

I watched this same scene play out every day for quite some time. Even on days when it rained.

I would always think to myself, “who is this tiny woman and where does she walk to every morning?” with what looked like a lot of determination.

She must have been clocking in late for her walk one morning as I was hanging up the open flag on the post outside of the shop door. Hmm, perhaps I was early that day. Either way, we almost crashed into one another. There she was, walking her brisk pace with her plastic bag in hand. I said good morning and she wished me the same in the most sweetest Scottish Brogue I had ever heard in my life. More like never.

That was the day Philomena and I became fast friends. She told me all about her life growing up in Paisley, Scotland. She was born there in 1931. She told me how she met her American husband and came to the Pittsburgh area and raised five children. I can’t remember how they ended up in the tiny town of Saxonburg.

She would stop in the shop a couple of times a week and we would share a pot of tea and just talk and talk. The shop was never busy enough that we would be interrupted for more than a few minutes. Her accent was still heavy and I had to listen hard at times to understand her. That charming, heavy Scottish accent.

Through our many conversations over pots of chai tea, (her favorite) one of the things I discovered was that her husband, Jimmy, had been recovering from a heart attack. Maybe that was how they ended up in Saxonburg. They downsized their home because they were in an apartment at the time. Phil and Jimmy’s grown children had all moved out of state as grown children sometimes do. Their son, Andrew, was living in Minnesota by now. As his parents aged, he wanted Phil and Jimmy to move to be closer to him so he could look after them properly.

That is a good son right there.

Not so long after Phil and I met, they packed up their belongings and moved to Minnesota.

Just like that.

After Phil had been gone from Saxonburg for almost a year, I received a letter in the mail from her. A thoughtful, sweet letter. What a lovely gift that was. A good old fashioned hand written letter. She wrote about their house, and although the winter was pretty darn cold, they loved being close to their son.

Sadly, life took over for us both and in time, we lost contact. But, she popped into my mind the other day, as so many people do. After tracking down some information on the interwebs, it was discovered that Phil passed away in October of 2017 with all of her loved ones around her.

I have always heard when a person has passed on and suddenly they pop into your head, that means their spirit is somehow present. That would be so nice if it was true.

I thought I would just jot down a little story about how Philomena and Victoria became Phil and Vic.

Oh, and that bag she carried every day? She was on her way to feed the ducks some bread.

Insert smile here.