Real Friends
I spent the summer after I graduated from college with two high school friends working random jobs on an island resort. It was a great summer. We had each gone to different colleges, and those months helped us reconnect in a way that christmas breaks just can't. We made a promise that summer that we would go on a trip every year.
We have never been the same and seem to only become more different. But, somehow it seems to matter less and less. Some of us have more money than others. One of us lives in the city. One of lives in our hometown. One of lives in husband's hometown. We have different jobs and different dreams and plans, but it just doesn't seem to matter.
We all went off to graduate schools and managed to fit our trip in most years. We missed the summer I got married. We missed the summer my dad died. But we remained committed.
This year was another wedding year, and we struggled to find a time away. We finally found one Friday night that we could all spend at a fancy spa.
The best laid plans . . .
A couple weeks before, my North Carolina friend discovered that her seemingly healthy 35-year-old husband needed open heart surgery. It was scheduled two days before our trip.
We planned to postpone, of course, but in the meantime, Virginia friend and I took our planned time off and drove to North Carolina. She didn't need us, and there was nothing for us to do. But we were there. Because we are friends. And when you have a friendship like ours that is just what you do.
When my dad died, Virginia friend was spending a year eight hours from home. After a trip home to visit her parents, she drove eight hours, learned my dad had died, turned around and drove eights hours back. Because we're friends. And that's what you do when you're friends.
There are a lot of things I don't like about getting older, but one of the joys is having friends who have known you through your best and your worst. They know the real you, the parts that have grown and changed and the changeless pieces of who you are.
At 21 we had no idea that our trips would be to funeral homes or hospitals, but that's real life and we are real friends. I wouldn't trade it.
We have never been the same and seem to only become more different. But, somehow it seems to matter less and less. Some of us have more money than others. One of us lives in the city. One of lives in our hometown. One of lives in husband's hometown. We have different jobs and different dreams and plans, but it just doesn't seem to matter.
We all went off to graduate schools and managed to fit our trip in most years. We missed the summer I got married. We missed the summer my dad died. But we remained committed.
This year was another wedding year, and we struggled to find a time away. We finally found one Friday night that we could all spend at a fancy spa.
The best laid plans . . .
A couple weeks before, my North Carolina friend discovered that her seemingly healthy 35-year-old husband needed open heart surgery. It was scheduled two days before our trip.
We planned to postpone, of course, but in the meantime, Virginia friend and I took our planned time off and drove to North Carolina. She didn't need us, and there was nothing for us to do. But we were there. Because we are friends. And when you have a friendship like ours that is just what you do.
When my dad died, Virginia friend was spending a year eight hours from home. After a trip home to visit her parents, she drove eight hours, learned my dad had died, turned around and drove eights hours back. Because we're friends. And that's what you do when you're friends.
There are a lot of things I don't like about getting older, but one of the joys is having friends who have known you through your best and your worst. They know the real you, the parts that have grown and changed and the changeless pieces of who you are.
At 21 we had no idea that our trips would be to funeral homes or hospitals, but that's real life and we are real friends. I wouldn't trade it.
posted by Sunday's Child at
4:54 PM
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