Growing up, I had never met anyone who shared my name. It was not a popular one; the only other Laura I knew was the one in the 1944 movie.
Thus, I was pleasantly surprised when I finally met someone who shared my name.
It was 1967, my first year of teaching. Among the many new faces of my students was an unforgettable one. She had an easy smile that seemed to stretch from ear to ear, sparkling blue eyes and black ringlets curling around her face. I was captivated by her lively personality.
Coincidentally, both her first and her middle names were the same as my own: Laura Lee. Through that year, I always looked forward to seeing her because she was so bright and happy and generous with her beautiful smile.
After a year of teaching, I moved to South America where I married and started to raise my family. Fifteen years later, I was pregnant with my third child. The births of my two older children had been difficult, so I decided for this third one to return to my hometown in the United States. This delivery would be by cesarean section, which required specialized care.
As I lay in the operating room awaiting the procedure, I wondered if the drugs were affecting my perception and I was hallucinating. The attending nurse gave me a smile that made me recall my delightful student of so long ago. Like that girl, her presence lit up the room.
“Laura?” I asked tentatively.
“Yes,” she replied happily.
Suddenly the years vanished, and I could see her once again as a young student sitting in class in front of me.
I could hardly take in this surprise when she told me an incredible story. According to Laura, when my mother was going to the hospital for my delivery, she hired a babysitter to care for my four older brothers. As my mother was leaving, the babysitter asked my mother what names she had chosen. My mother told her that if it was a girl, she would name her Laura Lee.
The babysitter announced then and there, that when she should have a daughter, she would also name her Laura Lee. She kept her promise when her own little girl was born, seven years later.
Laura Lee didn’t say how long she had known the way our lives intersected, but how wonderful to learn the story at this time.
Our births started us on a similar path, my teaching job brought us together, and my son’s birth completed the beautiful circle.
Laura Lee was my namesake, then my student, later my nurse, and now she is my friend.
Everybody Has a Story welcomes nonfiction contributions, 1,000 words maximum, and relevant photographs. Send to: neighbors@columbian.com or P.O. Box 180, Vancouver WA, 98666. Call “Everybody Has an Editor” Scott Hewitt, 360-735-4525, with questions.