Yesterday was one of those small gifts that keep me going. Yesterday I got to spend gobs of quality time with three of my college suitemates and favorite people. To anyone else's eye, we don't have much in common. Our politics and personalities don't match; we're interested in completely different things; we're at different stages in life: husband and 2+ kids, husband and one kid, husband and no kids, no husband at all. Among us are a racecar driver, a turtle farmer, a former jewelry business owner, a math teacher, a freelance writer, a minister, a breast cancer survivor, a world traveler. But these Saturdays of scrapbooks and stories are fast becoming a highlight for all of us, well worth the drive to our most central location, because whatever it was that held our disparate souls together in college is still alive and well - these girls listen to me and take me seriously and know me and love me, even if the intervals are long.
The conversations are always wide-ranging but no less deep for the breadth. We analyze and encourage and update and share and affirm. As it turns out, we are all stuck in the talons of one serious malady or another: Crohn's Disease, breast cancer, Grave's Disease, depression. But none of the diseases gets to win, because we seek good counsel.
At one point we were talking about commitment, and someone mentioned something that had been happening for ten years. Although the details of the exchange are fuzzy, I do remember exactly what I replied: "Ten years? Wow. I've never committed to anything for ten years..." Then, with dawning perception, "...except you guys!"
Yesterday we discovered it was almost exactly ten years ago, now, that we started talking about living together, putting together our dorm application project and roughing out a plan for a rich and sometimes frenzied coexistence. I'm not sure why it's this particular collective friendship that has stood the test of time in my life and not the hundreds of other (even less conflicted!) ones, but I'll certainly take it.
It's silly to try to define it, really. It's friendship, is what it is. Four friends, gathered around the table, thinking of the other three, unwrapping our hearts and letting them frolic in the sun for a bit.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
decade
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
"It's friendship, is what it is. Four friends, gathered around the table, thinking of the other three, unwrapping our hearts and letting them frolic in the sun for a bit."
That's so beautifully written it made me cry. In part, I think, because what you describe is something I do not have now. But also because I once had it, and it meant so much to me.
I often quote servant-leadership pioneer Robert Greenleaf, and it feels right to do it again now. He concluded his 1969 lecture “The Individual as Leader” with the assertion that “…in the end, nothing really counts but love and friendship.” I wholeheartedly agree.
In fact, I've been looking for a new quote/theme for the new blog template I'm designing for my first anniversary in March, and I think you have just led me to it--thanks!
Before I read the comments, I too was thinking the exact words - "how beautiful...I'm crying."
Thank you for writing and sharing.
Isn't there a German word describing exactly this kind of situation, a word that doesn't really translate but is sometimes rendered "cozy"? (Or is it Danish I'm thinking of?)
Awwww :) I agree- what we have is pretty awesome. You guys are among my greatest gifts. Amy B.
Post a Comment