Meet Lindy
When ten minutes turns into belonging
Even though Lindy is a new friend, she is a very dear friend. It proves to me that friendship is measured by moments, not by its length.
How I Met Lindy, the Woman.
In the summer, every Sunday night, a bagpiper plays at Point Prim Lighthouse as the sun sets. When the sun is gone, she stops and people drift back to their cars. Sunday after Sunday, this is the local summer ritual. It attracts tourists, but it also attracts us locals who long for community, ritual and nature.
One Sunday night in July, my husband, Mark and I arrived early at Point Prim. We met a couple from England and had a really lovely chat. I lived in England at one point in my life, and my grandmother on my mother’s side was from England, so talking to people from England always gives me warm and fuzzy feelings.
Soon it was time to claim our sunset rock. Not long after we sat down, a woman sat on a rock in front of us. What struck me immediately was how she was dressed. The only way I can describe it is “wild womany”. Flowing, layered, expressive. Around here, the standard uniform leans toward hoodies, jeans, and baseball caps. She stood out to me.
I instantly wanted to get to know her. As she sat there on the boulder, the sun setting over the ocean, I thought, I must paint her. So I took a photo of her for reference. I later learned her name is Lindy.
I also took a photo of the English couple, cuddled together on their rock. And when a man joined Lindy, I captured a photo of them too. His name, I would later learn, was Rob. I never intended to post any of it. I just like to collect evidence of love.
The bagpiper began and all conversation stopped. We listened as the day closed.
When people started packing up, I noticed Rob showing the English couple the photos he had taken of them. They were delighted, and contact information was exchanged.
When Rob rejoined Lindy, I did something that felt slightly vulnerable. I confessed that I had taken photos of them too.
We exchanged contact details and talked for about ten minutes before the mosquitos came out and launched a full-on attack.
Ten minutes.
Is that long enough to recognize that subtle click of resonance?
It was for us.
The Beginning of a Deep Friendship
After a few attempts to reconnect that fell through, a full year passed before we saw each other again. Mark and I were invited to a house party Rob and Lindy were hosting. We, along with thirty other guests, went.
By the end of the evening, Rob and Lindy each said something so sweet.
“You two fit right in.”
I don’t know a kinder way to say, you belong here.
After that night, the friendship accelerated. Live music events. Dinners. Desserts. Garden box building. Art installation help. Backyard labyrinth walks. Every time we gather, there’s that feeling again. Like we somehow landed in the right place with the right people.
We joke that between the four of us, there are so many overlapping similarities that at any given moment there are only two people in the room.
How Lindy the Fish Came into Being
The Bottle
This past Christmas, I realized I had forgotten to buy wine. On Christmas Day, I texted Lindy to see if she had an extra bottle. She did.
The fish called Lindy is made from that very bottle. Meiomi Pinot Noir California 2022. The wine was excellent. When I look at this bottle, I’m reminded of that warm feeling you get when friends and community are there when you need them.
The Fin
When I showed up to pick up the wine, Lindy handed me a Christmas present. She had knit me a beautiful shawl and called it my “hygge shawl.” She knows how important coziness is to me and how much I love wrapping myself in scarves and shawls. She gets me.
Every morning, when I sit down with my coffee and morning pages, that shawl is wrapped around my shoulders. It feels like a hug from my friend before the day begins.
For the fin, I learned chainmail to honour this gift. Essentially knitting metal rings together. I used the European 4-in-1 weave. It required more patience than I possess, but I love the result. And admittedly, it did get easier once I settled into the rhythm of it all.
The Colour Palette
Purple is one of the colours I use to represent spirituality, which is one thread of my friendship with Lindy.
The rest of the palette leans toward softness. The blush and gold light of a setting sun at Point Prim, the texture of my hygge-shawl, and the gentleness of a hug I am grateful for each morning.
When I look at this fish, I am reminded that belonging doesn’t always require decades. Sometimes it begins with ten minutes on a rock, a shared sunset, and the courage to say, “I took your picture.”
And sometimes, that’s enough to change everything.
Scroll to see other stories in this art installation.
If you like reading about how I am turning friends into fish for my Thirsty for Connection art installation, here are some more stories.
I’m deeply moved by this. All of this.
The memory - when I said to you “we should know each other” was verbal recognition of that sense of connection, knowing, love.
The wine - gladly shared, despite it being a cherished favourite that I was hoarding. Diminished when compared to all you have given me.
The artful representation of our friendship, captured in a fish - flowing, beautiful, a bit wild. Always driven by the instinct to carry on, live, thrive.
Forever cherished ❤️❤️🙏🏻
Oh my! You’ve got us both in tears! Happy, grateful, connected, tears❤️🙏😘