When the kids are in school, what do we really have to do with one another? Each of my friends has a different interest, and most are not compatible with my own. They are fun friends, and I enjoy them when we are together, but for the most part, we are together for our kids.
I start to get even weepier thinking about the loss of my steady friends who know the real me-- me before my body was corrupted--me before my hair turned gray. The me when I had something to talk about other than my children and the wonderful things they do. The me that was me!
The whole thing was causing me to come home from the gym, slurp down mountains of Fritos and chocolate covered raisins, and then either A) sleep the rest of the day away or B) bury my nose in a book until time chauffeur the kids. I didn't even want to clean!
Then last night, after returning home from ballet, there was a message from one of those reliable friends.
"Give me an E," she shouted on the recorder. "E," her husband could be heard in the background (he of the Eagles mentioned above fan that I hadn't heard from). "Give me an A," she shouted and so on down the line until she had spelled out "Eagles." "Anyway, I don't care about all of that," she said, and she doesn't really, but she is the ever-faithful wife, "Just call me back when you get a chance, and we'll talk."
I called her back, and we were off and running. We had an adult talk. We laughed and giggled and eased into our silly before-we-were-married talk. We talked about children, mine, and hers-to-be, but it was just a blip in the conversation. What we really cared about was us.
I felt the tension of my week-long worry ease. My friend was here. My friend who knew me. My friend, who somehow sensed that I needed her and picked up the phone to let me know she was there. Just like a true friend does. Today I got some cleaning done. I'm back and feeling somewhat whole. Thanks to my friend.
Thanks, Sharon. Love you.
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