An Unlikely Friendship...

I have this ache. Sometimes it’s like a knot stuck in a spot that makes it tough to swallow. Other times it feels soft and watery and makes it hard to speak. The first time I noticed it was when I was sixteen and abruptly left home. I didn’t realize until then the power of heartstrings. I was so young, a new bride and I needed my Mom. But circumstances prevented us from communicating. The resulting ache had a mind of its own and made for tear-filled nights and leaden bed-covers every morning. 

I lived with that ache for almost a year before Mom and I were finally reunited. Our meetings were clandestine; stolen moments in her yard on a sunny afternoon or Saturday’s at Kresge’s lunch counter. Sometimes we met over laundry and folded and talked. She wasn't just my mother she was my best friend.

I did have other best friends. I still do. Two of them - so precious now because they’ve known me for a lifetime. But back then, they were going to school and dating. I was married and working full time. We just didn’t have as much in common. When I was excited about getting a vacuum cleaner for Christmas that first year they thought I’d lost a screw. Thankfully, the years have been kind to the three of us and we remain as close as sisters. But miles separate us and the ache insists I visit at least twice a year. The ache is nothing if not persistent.

Recently the ache has plucked a forgotten friend from memory and danced her through my heart’s corridors. We became friends through our spouses and that friendship kept us sane when our lives were less so. We traveled as couples. Even better we traveled as friends. But best of all we saw each other every day. We talked on the phone. We walked. We laughed. We shared everything. She was my rock after I gave birth to a breakable baby and a comfort when I lost precious family members. She was the sole witness to my crumbling marriage and even provided a safe haven when it ended. 

I lost custody of so much in that ordeal. My children, my home, my belongings. But in retrospect, one of the greatest losses was that friendship. Neither one of us realized it was chattel. The continuation of our friendship was not mutually beneficial because circumstances made it uncomfortable. So it was severed. Like a rotting appendage.

It’s been nearly twenty years and I still miss her like I would my right arm. I realize now that I took our friendship for granted. I was cavalier in thinking I’d make another friendship just like it. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve made acquaintances I thought were friends, and I have arm’s length friends and people I consider friends, but not the true-blue kind, like the one I had but lost. Maybe I’m too needy or expect too much. It could be I was just lucky to ever have found that ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ friend. 

Mom told me that it wasn’t easy to find a good friend as you got older. She was right. People have their families and well established friendships by the time they reach middle age. Demands on life and time just don’t make new friendships feasible or practical. I get that. The ache doesn’t. It’s a bit thick as aches go. It’s also moody, demanding and a royal pain. It’s always there, replaying fond memories, making me laugh, reminiscing. 

I can’t imagine life without it.