no better way
One of my dearest friends visited us this weekend, ever so briefly. She's not my oldest friend either in age or duration, but her presence in my life is deep and strong. I don't know anyone who is more involved and clear about her own stuff, whose energy is more serene, and whose jokes are as wicked as I'd like to think mine are.
Our birthdays are a mere twelve years and one day apart. We shared a cosmic moment in 1995, when I called her on what I thought was her birthday and mine, only to be disabused, alarmed, transported, and confused at the conversation that ensued. Seems I had mistaken the day of her 25th birthday party as the actual date of her birthday. The following year, I called her to wish her a happy day. It was my 38th birthday. I was sitting in my cube farm on the 10th floor of the Advantis building.
"Carlene! Happy birthday!"
"bhd, today's not my birthday."
365 days of belief was shattered. It wasn't a horrible moment, but it was a surreal one. For a brief moment, I wasn't quite sure of the nature of reality. This sounds like a small thing, but something I had held in concrete certainty had been shattered. I had to actually hold my head in my hands. So did she, as confused as she was when I insisted that it was, indeed, her birthday.
We laugh about it now. She can never remember if mine is the day before or the day after. It doesn't matter. We are always either too busy or too telephone shy to call each other. That's the kind of friendship we have. Years pass, and our love for one another is constant.
I've missed the last four years of her children's lives. I've missed the past four years of her husband's life. And yet the four of them are imprinted on my heart in a way I never thought imaginable about people to whom I am not related.
So she visited. I picked her up at the ferry landing in Port Angeles. I didn't think she'd have had time for dinner, so I packed strawberries and cheese and pretzels. But right at the ferry landing was an Indian restaurant, and we share of love of that cuisine, so I bought her some pakoras and a mango lassi. She was charmed. I think she'll love me forever for that one.
The next morning we all laughed about the amazing amount of gas the pakoras caused, but no matter. We didn't hear her and she didn't hear me. It's all good, and it wouldn't have mattered anyway. Together we could laugh and cry and walk and eat and just be with one another. Girlfriend time. There's nothing like it. She charges my batteries. I let her paddle the kayak, in spite of the serious chop and brisk winds. She gathered something like 45 lbs. of stones and shells and crab carcasses from the beach, and I'm going to ship them to her tomorrow, cleaned and bleached and dry.
At the airport on Sunday, as I hugged her, all I could say was "I love that it seems like no time has passed." Well, I also told her there's no crying in baseball, but that's by way of admitting that tears will flow, time will pass, and love will endure. I believe she understood.
4 Comments:
:)
i use that a lot (there's no crying in baseball!!) a lot!!
i know exactly what you mean and feel in this journal of yours.
i feel that way about my friend trish who i've known since 5th grade. doesn't matter if we don't talk on the phone. time passes and we don't see each other. when we do, its like the last time i talked to her was the day before. our love for each other is just as fresh.
this is what friendship is about. though sometimes it seems deeper than just that word: friendship, doesn't it?
doesn't matter if it is or its not reciprocated in the exact same manner, but just feeling that way about someone is a gift.
and i'm tearing up as i type this because that's how i feel about you.
and there's no crying in baseball.
Ah, sweet Universe. What is it this week about people writing these long blogs about the nature of friendship? Right at a time when I'm in this terrible misunderstanding/fight with a very dear friend?
So I'll push that out and bring to mind another friendship that *isn't* breaking my heart today. We met almost 30 years ago when we faced off against each other in a city tennis match. I don't remember who won. But afterward, our first conversation consisted of her decrying her recent discovery that Elton John was gay and therefore not available to steal her teenaged heart: "I spent this morning stomping on Captain America. Want to go get ice cream?"
As you might expect from that beginning, this is a relationship that has endured, through a lot of joys and heartaches. We live half-way across the country from each other now. And we often go months, or even years, between seeing each other with little contact between times. And yet, when we get together, it's like we've never parted. I always end up crying when I see her. Because in every conversation, every embrace, the message between us is: "I know you, inside and out. I know the best and the worst you have, and I love you, warts and all. Your friendship is very important to me." Approaching a relationship with that sort of attitude is rare and a treasure indeed. That's what lets you spend a lot of time apart and pick up later exactly where you left off. If we are lucky, we get perhaps a handful of those friends across a lifetime.
Two weeks ago, our five-year-old daughters met for the first time. I have lots of pictures of them holding hands and hugging. The pictures look like I feel whe I'm with Suzanne. Thanks for making me remember it.
I am going to be seeing a childhood friend in a few weeks that I haven't seen in well over five years. I hope it will feel like we haven't been apart. I can't imagine it being uncomfortable for either of us.
I agree with you totally about Carlene's energy. I wish I knew her better.
Glad she got to visit. Looks like it was a perfect day!
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