In response to my apologies for a messy house, Patt Morgan-Lloyd would always say: "I didn't come to see your house. I couldn't care less. I came to see you." On the phone, she'd first ask, "How are the kitties?"   

Like so many of her friends in the Valley and in New Mexico (and beyond), I'm missing my friend. The memories so long ago mow that we shared race through my mind as I am still so grateful for her friendship and emotional support.  

We shared two SLV Mental Health offices and became fast coffee-break buddies. One cold workday, I came to the office wearing my new washable midi-length red coat and hood. Patt loved it so much that she asked where I got it. I had ordered from a catalog from which she promptly ordered herself one. We were like twins. Everywhere we went, we were greeted as Little Red Riding Hood or Tweedledee and Tweedledum. But the coat was warm and easy to care for because it was washed and dry.  

I ordered a camera for the prevention program, which lets me zoom in, video, and take professional pictures of the events in the mentoring and prevention programs. Not long after, she ordered one for her Retired Senior Volunteer Program (RSVP), and we were both "off to the races."  She picked me up once or twice in her big Jeep where I had to climb in — not slide in. One Saturday, we had lunch at the Monte Vista Bowl and Grill — after a trip to the Nazarene Thrift Store. Good service kept us talking over coffee and iced tea. 

She was part of the tobacco prevention coalition that I organized while in prevention at Alamosa County Public Health. In return, I'd sometimes fill in for her office aid for various correspondence or newsletters. It was a crisp fall morning when we were sitting on the bench out the back door of the Mental Health Center. "Nelda, I've quit smoking. I thought you'd like to know." I was so delighted, I smiled and said, "Congratulations!" We used our coffee to toast to the occasion. 

A couple summers ago, we had a picnic at my rustic picnic table in my front yard. She was so generous and brought the tablecloth, glasses, utensils and chicken. Her big-heartedness was so gracious and carried over to preparing baskets for every occasion for "the golden girls" she had coffee with at the Alamosa Senior Center. As I write, I'm enjoying coffee from the Kitty cup she brought this spring and a metal wreath with kitties hanging on my front door. 

Another summer, we carried lawn chairs up the sidewalk from my house to get a better perch to see the parade. Her daughter, grand-daughter, great-granddaughter, and boys all came but walked up to the main street so they could catch some thrown candies. She told them, "We'll see the parade from here. We'll be here when you're done." We laughed a lot that morning. 

I let her know frequently that she was a treasure and that I loved her. "I love you, too," she'd say from her mobile phone. She tried so hard to come back after these last bouts of illness and exercised for her physical therapist in order not to have to use a walker. 

Many, many times, I'd call or email her in a demoralized state about life and difficult people. She'd listen to me and assure me, "You've done all that you can." She restated, "It's not your fault." And those words made all the difference to me. Lately, I keep checking my email to see if she has written to tell me, "I sent three columns ahead." I'd say, "I better catch up." She always ended her conversation with me, "Call me," or "I'll call you later."    

Thank you for being my friend, Patt.  

Nelda Curtiss is a retired college educator and long-time local columnist. Reach her at columnsbynellie.com or email her at columnsbynellie@gmail.com.