friendship
One of my biggest fears in high school was walking into the cafeteria with a tray of food, eyeing the colossal room, searching for a familiar face and finding none. As a teenage girl, the thought of sitting with strangers, alone, or the possibility of being rejected was just too big a risk. I always felt brave amongst a close group of friends. The halls at school were livelier. Talking to that cute boy was easier.
Today I might have the guts to ask politely, “Is that seat taken?” but I still depend on my friends for a lot.
July 30th was International Friendship Day. I am not sure who gets to designate these special days - International Tequila Day, International Sibling Day, International Puppy Day - or why? But maybe they give us pause to consider the subject - the golden, our siblings, TEQUILA or friendship.
Last week, I celebrated my 55th birthday on a back porch. At the table sat friends, some of whom I have known for over 50 years. In lower school, dressed in our light pink tights and black leotards, we ate red Twizzlers together, bought on route to ballet class. We went figuring skating on an outside rink, long before girls’ hockey was a thing, and performed numbers choreographed to Hey Mr. Postman and Delta Dawn. We escaped the halls of middle school to the gymnasium, where we shot baskets and were nicknamed The Gym Rats. In high school, we went on road trips and college visits, once running out of money and having to beg our way through a toll booth. In friendship we felt invincible and confident, solid and safe.
“Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound!”
And good friendship makes you feel just that. I have always believed in it, trusted it, given it and depended upon it. Without it, I feel a little lost.
I remember once listening in on a conversation between a mother and her daughter. The daughter had just gotten a haircut and the mother didn’t like it. “Well, my friends like it,” the girl hissed to which her mother responded, “You can’t trust your friends.”
Hmm; not the message I would give. Maybe the girl had the wrong kind of friends, the kind that you count on social media and follow - you know, your 1,000 BFF’s. Not the real kind of friendships that are built over time through experience and love. The kind of friends that tell you what you want to hear when you need that, but also give it to you straight when you need that too. The kind that will drop everything because they hear something in the tone of your voice. The kind that can re-enter your life after a brief disruption and not miss a beat. And the kind that show up.
When our son was sick, I spent much of my time by his side in the ICU of a New York hospital. Some friends got together to create the Anonymous Angels, and every week, they provided entertainment for our other children - games, special visits, sweet treats. Wow - just…wow - that a group of people would find the time in their own busy lives with their own busy children to make sure that our children were doing okay. It warmed my heart then and does so today. I have never forgotten the way my Angels made me feel. They taught me how to be a better friend. How to show up, even uninvited.
Life can be so hard and good friends let us know that we are not in this alone. That might sound dramatic, cliché even, but I was reminded this week that we never truly know the battles that might be mounting in the lives of those around us, even in the lives of our friends. And although the pandemic has slowed down the pace of life, it has stolen from us the ability to openly gather with friends and even family, and this has led to feelings of isolation and depression and anxiety. And sometimes I wonder if the risk of infection is worse than the risk of compromised mental health. I was reminded this week to prioritize friendship. I was reminded that even those friends who seem to have it all, may be struggling on the inside. I was reminded to probe, to love, to care, to not hold back, and to trust our friends with our most vulnerable and honest thoughts.
In just over a month, our daughter will begin a new school. She has spent her last eleven years at the same small day school in our community, where over the course of time she has developed good friendships and navigated the halls with confidence; she felt at home. In the cafeteria, she knew where and with whom to sit.
We have started to buy the items included on the packing list -two sets of bed linens, a storage bin for under her bed - and those things that will make her time away more comfortable: a cozy throw, a mattress topper. These are easy. The harder ones aren’t physical and can’t be bought at Bed Bath and Beyond. They are the ones I want to pack in her heart, to be taken out as needed, to provide comfort and company when she feels alone.
The school, with its remarkable resources and fancy buildings and beautiful setting, is nothing without the people with whom she will share ramen and conversation at 2 am, provide a shoulder for a bad grade and celebrate the rising sun from a field on the hill at the close of the academic year. And I hope she will take special care in developing those friendships, that she will be loyal and cherish them. And I hope many years from now, she will be sitting on a back porch blowing out 55 candles, surrounded by friends who have been with her on prior trips around the sun.
Yesterday, I was cleaning out a drawer where I keep my jewelry. Most of it is costume and has not seen the light of day from well before the start of the quarantine. I came across a necklace of pearls, something my grandmother gave me. I held it in my hands and looked past the individual jewels and focused on the small knots wedged between them, placed perfectly to protect the integrity of the strand. If one pearl broke free the others would stay intact, and I thought about this piece and the majesty of friendship. And I realized that sometimes we take for granted the knots, the part of the strand that gives it strength and keeps it together. Without those knots, there is danger in coming apart, and I realized just how grateful I am for the friendships in my life that do the same.