Every once in a while, you need someone in your life to remind you of its more ridiculous and/or hideous moments. Someone who won’t shy away from bringing up the time when you had a teenage crush on Steve, a guy who lost most of his teeth before he turned 30 (and those that are left are mighty decrepit). Someone who can describe in vivid detail the night you did a drunken ballet demonstration in the middle of the street. Someone who has experienced your parents and knows what social misfits they could be. Someone who’s got your back and makes sure your ego never gets too big.
Ten days ago, I spent time with four of these someones: May, Charlene, Rochelle and Tracey. Since we can never finish telling all the stories on our two-hour coffee dates when I’m visiting Canada, this time, we planned a sleepover. Granted, Tracey, who used to rock out to AC-DC and now goes to bed at 9 every night, went home around 11, preferring the comfort of her bed to a pull-out sofa for her old bones. Charlene, stuffed up and sneezing from one of the several viruses she gets each year, likely picked up by her kids at the petri dish called school, packed it in at 1 am. May, Rochelle and I managed to stay up until almost 3, but were only a degree away from sober for the duration of the evening.
We may not party like we used to but boy, have we got history.
I’ve known these women since I had bad home perms atop a giant head atop a tiny, flat-chested body. Since before we’d ever *really* been kissed and still had posters of pop music stars on our bedroom walls. Since the year the TV show “The Waltons” was cancelled. I’ve known them since 1981.
We grew up laughing about bad bosses at our first jobs (three Wendy’s, a McDonald’s and a Baskin Robbins between us) and swapping boyfriends (there was no “can’t touch this” rule like there is now). We’ve gone through more hair colors than L’Oreal has names for (and as of last weekend, May and Charlene were still sporting pink and purple bits, respectively). We have driven each other around in bashed-in, used-up cars that were on their last breath (anyone ever propped up their hatch door using a field hockey stick?), or just crashed them (Rochelle has an impressive record of totaling Volvos. I think Volvo’s engineers need to meet her).
There were no cell phones and email, yet we always knew what was going on with one another. We went to university and got better jobs, had long-term boyfriends (or declared celibacy or eloped—Tracey has still not been forgiven for that one) and traveled. Somewhat unconsciously, our postal codes remained collectively confined to just a few zones. For a while, I lived in Charlene’s basement, then later, May, Tracey and I all owned condos on the same cul-de-sac.
We knew we were really adults when our family members—parents and even a brother—started dying, and we’ve carried each other through that, too. Some years ago, I picked up May’s mother’s last prescription for morphine as she lay at home in hospice care, ravaged by ALS. In 2009, I ate lunch with these girlfriends just before visiting my father in the hospital, where he stayed until his passing a couple of days later. Our families changed again when babies were born to a few of us, and since then, those kids have been generously lent out to the one in our group who couldn’t have her own (note: in my house, we used the vasectomy-hysterectomy method of birth control).
In an essay that I penned for the book Write for the Fight, I opined that on my 80th birthday, I really wanted people to say that I’d been a true and loyal friend. Shortly after, when I read a draft of Molly Greene’s novel Mark of the Loon, I told her I wished I had the close rapport of her four main female characters with some of my girlfriends. What’s that old saying, “It has to hit her in the face before she sees it?” Well, I guess that despite the laser eye surgery, I can still be pretty near-sighted at times.
I’m more than a few postal codes away from my old school friends now and don’t often hear about their day-to-day goings-on, but the good news is this: they’ll be at my 80th birthday party, Insha Allāh, and while they will probably bring up toothless Steve, the disorderly ballet dancing and other debacles, I think they’ll have some pretty nice things to 
say, as well. And, after not seeing them for months and then falling right back into our old habits and patterns last weekend, I realized my rapport with these women is a million times better than what could be written in any book (although Molly does a darn good job). After 31 years of love and loss, health and illness, birth and death, these dear friends will never let me forget from where I came, and to whom I am connected. Now, if I could just get them to shut up about how dorky I look when I run.
I love this. It makes me miss my best friend Jenny who has known me since I was a very awkward 13 year old eating my lunch in the library where we met. I think I need to call her:)
Thank you, Pamela. And yes, call Jenny!
Great post Laura. One of my favourite episodes of Friends is when Phoebe runs like a little kid cause “that’s the only way it’s fun”. I think they should hold 10km dork runs. Would be a blast!
I know exactly the episode of which you speak! Okay, then let’s start a new trend. Dork running is awesome!
So many chapters to a well-lived life. So many stories and experiences — good and bad. It’s funny how we sometimes fail to see what’s right in front of us (that nearsightedness you spoke of). But if we’re open to growing and learning, things will come into focus eventually. (Some of us — me! — just take a little longer than others.)
Me too, but we get there eventually, don’t we, Diane? And then it’s even more precious. Thank you for reading!
Such a sweet post about some awesome women! You deserve friends like them! Love,
Jodi
Thank you, Jodi. I’m so glad to have them in my life.
Awwww, made me laugh, made me cry! Thanks for that & helping me with my own ‘nearsightedness’ to see clearly again! Now I can start thinking of those stories for 50 – why wait ’til 80 ?! Can I post them here – hee hee hee?!? Can’t wait to read the book – thanks! xo
You know, maybe we should tell them when we’re 50. By the time we’re 80, we’ll be able to just make any old shit up and probably won’t remember if it was true or not! xo
Hey Bighead! I wish I was one of your childhood buddies so I could tease you about Steve! Love this post and it is so true. My high school girlfriends know way too many secrets about me … but the good news is they’re old now and their memories are fading, so I’m safe. Thank you so much for mentioning my book! Was so much fun to write that story, and I’m so glad you’re my friend!
I love how all these things just kind of come together in their own natural way — your story, our conversation about the characters, my epiphany. I’m so glad you’re my friend, too. Old friend, new friends, they are all a blessing.
Such a wonderful essay on friendship, Laura! I don’t know who said this, but I like it: “A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart, and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words.” I think you have exactly that in your old pals. Such an uplifting blog!!
That’s a great quote, and has definitely proven itself true on many occasions. Hugs to you!
LOVE this, Laura… thanks for sharing! And yes, we are truly connected – on a cellular level, subconsciously, spiritually, however one would like to describe it – with soul sisters who have been there through the gamut! It’s such a comforting feeling that we can pick-up-where-we-left-off with these individuals. Timeless bonds… It’s what LIFE is all about!!!!!!!!
YES! I didn’t fully understand that aspect of connection before, but now that I’m figuring it out, it fills me with wonder. Thanks for your comment, Kelly. xo
Nothing is as precious as true friends <3
I concur!
I’ve always felt that friendship is the most beautiful of all relationships. It’s a commitment without any sense of rules or duty, just love. The very best marriages are built on it. Loved hearing about your friends.
Right, no sense of duty, yet it feels so good to give and support! Thank you for reading, Christina.
Wonderful post about friendship. Yes, Yes, I relate to it all. Thank god for our close friends- they keep us honest. And humble. And loved.
Thank you for reading, Pamela! It’s actually kind of a relief in a way to have people out there that know us so well, isn’t it?
Ah dear Laura, such a beautiful essay on the wonders of longtime friends. I don’t see my high school friends anymore but they reside in my heart – having been integral to the person I ultimately became. Actually there is music from that “era” that brings them immediately to mind. Do you find that too? A song plays on the radio, and you are right there, back in that time?
As always, a great post! Sorry it took me so long to finally pop over and read it.
Oh, absolutely, there are songs that just put me right in the moment. I LOVE that about music. I know that you and k.d. and the gang have made your Top 100 music lists but I did a soundtrack of my life a while back — you should have a read, it may jog another memory or two for you: https://laurazera.com/?p=25. Thanks for stopping by, Jo-Anne. xo