Dalelle and I met the summer of ’98 at a University of Ottawa residence orientation weekend. A year younger than me, she traveled alone from Sudbury to meet new people and get acquainted with the campus and city she’d call her home. I journeyed 45 minutes from home, by car, with my Mom, for the occasion. She seemed so… grown up compared to me.
She told me she was registered in the theatre department. We found out we had a lot in common. Both fully bilingual. Both theatre lovers. Both chatty as all hell. We sat by the Rideau Canal talking about our dreams. She was going to volunteer for everything she could and eventually get herself a job at the National Arts Centre. She was bound and determined to make it in this town. I admired her drive.
Long story short, she eventually went on to coordinate one of Canada’s major francophone theatre festivals for the NAC. She’s now a Production Coordinator for the Museum of Civilization and often works for Bluesfest and the NCC. Oh, and she’s barely 30 years old and she has two kids.
I consider Dalelle one of my best friends. I’ve directed her in quite a few productions. She was the maid of honour at my wedding. I babysat her first born while she delivered her second. And yet, we only speak a handful of times a year. We’re lucky if we see each other a few times a year. It’s part of the curse of being very similar people, both intensely focused on family and our careers.
She always tells me I can count on her for anything… and she means it. Just recently when I was stuck without a babysitter at the last minute, on a whim, I decided to email her. Not only did she agree to watch the girls, but she wanted to take them for the entire day so I could relax. She knows that I schedule babysitters for when I need to work, rarely for social/date time. I would be more than happy to give you a “just cause I feel like doing what I wanna do day” if you would like.