The picture above is of me and my best friend Terry on our high school Graduation Day. That’s me on the left. Take note of the little date stamped on the side of this cheesy old, dog-eared instamatic color photo I’ve kept for over thirty years: "Jul 73."
Today is Terry’s fiftieth birthday. I lost track of her about seven years ago. She came out for a visit, then went home to Arizona and disappeared from my life. On purpose, I think, though I don’t know why. We didn’t fight, or really do much of anything during her visit. Tried to keep it positive and fun…went to the beach and flew kites. She had finally divorced her alcoholic husband, and made a fleeting reference to thinking about marrying some rich guy that she didn’t love, just for the money. Maybe she thought I wouldn’t approve. But within weeks of her return home, she had moved, left no forwarding address. My letter came back marked "undeliverable." And I never heard from her again. Methinks she knows where I am, though…every year, we get a gift magazine subscription from her. I think they probably notified her when we changed our address three years ago. This knowledge has kept me from trying to "find" her. She knows where to find me…if she wanted contact with me, she would initiate it. So I just…let it lie.
I got to thinking about her today when I realized what day it was. It was in my mind to go back and dig up all the letters she had written me after we relocated to Oregon. Of course, I saved them. There’s something about written words that speak of history to me, and I can’t throw them away. When we were cleaning out the garage this past weekend, I unearthed some of the letters she had written just after we moved away. I sat down to read one, and it about ripped my guts out. I realized that this friend with whom I was peevish because of her relationship choices, of whom I despaired because it never seemed like we shared the deep relationship that lifetime girlfriends should, who I rejected when she finally came to me, needing something that I didn’t know how to give (just an ear, just a shoulder to cry on…); this beautiful friend had a much better understanding of our relationship than I ever had. And now, of course, I miss what I never appreciated until just this minute.
Happy Birthday, Ms. Tree. I hope you’re spending this milestone day wherever and with whomever makes you the happiest.
All mannnn.....What sucks is not being able to fix whatever it was. But you know what, maybe it was not something you did or say, but something she is going through. Many people in my past have called me a flake because I drop out of their existence. But because I can feel ten years go like it was yesterday, and I can do this with anyone and any event, I have a hard time remembering what I am doing to them.
Glad to hear that you two actually got in the garage! LOL! Go you, the husband over here, still has not touched "the projects."
She will come around, she is keeping her communication line open the way she needs to right now, -----that subscription is a worthy reminder of that.
Happy Birthday Ms. Tree!
Btw, no wonder hubby grabbed you up, you were/is quite the hottie.
Oh Lisa! This is such a poignant entry. Why is it that sometimes we can't see the forest for the trees? Maintaining a "best friend" relationship with someone from high school days can certainly be a challenge. I have a friend who has drifted in and out of my life since those days too. Take heart that Terry probably knows where you are and when you least expect it, one day you will hear from her again. Love the graduation picture. Didn't we all think we were so grown up on that day?
Wow....sounds like a mystery wrapped in an enigma! How odd that she would lay low and yet send you a gift subscription every year. Maybe she's in witness protection???
I have had so many friends that I wonder about and have lost contact with. Most of them were online but we used to talk all the time. I don't know what happened but o well. Happy Bornday to your friend.
It seems to me that she does what contact with you. Otherwise, why would she continue to send you a subscription every year. If I were you, I'd bite the bullet and hunt her down. Shoot, a little internet search is probably all that it would take. ::::nudge-nudge:::: Come on, do it! :-) ---Robbie
I like to see a man proud of the place in which he lives. I like to see a man live so that his place will be proud of him. --Abraham Lincoln
Where I'm From
I am from station wagons, from kool-aid and turf-builder.
I am from the three bedroom, one bath ticky-tacky box
with the swath of weedy lawn; from lightning bugs,
June bugs, and mosquitoes the size of small birds.
From nights near as hot as the days,
spread-eagled on sticky sheets
crickets creaking, horns honking,
trains rumbling and whistling in the distance…
I am from snow to the eaves, jewel-studded ice storms
and green-black thunderstorms with sideways rain.
I am from bright red tulips, honeysuckle berries,
and worms on the driveway after a cloudburst;
from daisies, tiny wild strawberries, “Queen Anne’s Lace”
and crashing the kite into power lines.
I am from “Look what followed me home from school”
and never having too many animals. From Taffy and Rusty
and Sunny, the yellow headed parakeet, who could say
“Happy Birthday” but only when he thought
no one was listening…
I am from the women who shuttle the carpool,
punch the clock, scrub the toilet,
then climb into the bottle, the herb
or the fantasy to quiet the noise in their heads
and the men they choose to rescue
or who choose to rescue them.
From “When you meet the right one, you’ll just know”
and “Your dad was a virgin when we were married…”
I am from the dutiful eldest daughter who paired off
home made and pro-created at the appointed time,
and the other four who didn’t.
I am from the tearful Catholic and the stoic agnostic;
the rope stretched taut between belief and unbelief,
pulled one direction, then the other…
the eternal tug of war never won.
I’m from pioneers of urban exile; before the country clubs and the soccer and the Rolls Royces.
I’m from the first McDonald’s and the last Tastee Freez.
I am from the great moldering box in the upstairs closet;
roaring twenties sepias stacked on
shiny square instamatic shots, discoloring with age.
I am from the five stair-steps, the Christmas trees, the campfires,
and the blurred mountains captured from a moving car.
I am from the unlikely union of a country boy and a city girl,
brought together by Hitler and Hirohito;
and the neighborhood of compromise
that kept them both sane…almost.
On Where We're Destined to Go...
As for life, I'm humbled, I'm without words sufficient to say
how it has been hard as flint, and soft as a spring pond,both of these and over and over,
and long pale afternoons besides, and so many mysteries beautiful as eggs in a nest, still unhatched though warm and watched over by something I have never seen -a tree angel, perhaps,or a ghost of holiness.
Every day I walk out into the world to be dazzled, then to be reflective. It suffices, it is all comfort - along with human love,
dog love, water love, little-serpent love,sunburst love, or love for that smallest of birds flying among the scarlet flowers.
There is hardly time to think about
stopping, and lying down at last to the long afterlife, to the tenderness yet to come, when time will brim over the singular pond, and become forever,
and we will pretend to melt away into the leaves.
As for death, I can't wait to be the hummingbird, can you?
Mary Oliver
"Sometimes I go around feeling sorry for myself; and all the while I am being carried by the wind across the sky." --Chippewa saying.
All mannnn.....What sucks is not being able to fix whatever it was. But you know what, maybe it was not something you did or say, but something she is going through. Many people in my past have called me a flake because I drop out of their existence. But because I can feel ten years go like it was yesterday, and I can do this with anyone and any event, I have a hard time remembering what I am doing to them.
ReplyDeleteGlad to hear that you two actually got in the garage! LOL! Go you, the husband over here, still has not touched "the projects."
She will come around, she is keeping her communication line open the way she needs to right now, -----that subscription is a worthy reminder of that.
Happy Birthday Ms. Tree!
Btw, no wonder hubby grabbed you up, you were/is quite the hottie.
Oh Lisa! This is such a poignant entry. Why is it that sometimes we can't see the forest for the trees? Maintaining a "best friend" relationship with someone from high school days can certainly be a challenge. I have a friend who has drifted in and out of my life since those days too. Take heart that Terry probably knows where you are and when you least expect it, one day you will hear from her again. Love the graduation picture. Didn't we all think we were so grown up on that day?
ReplyDeleteWow....sounds like a mystery wrapped in an enigma! How odd that she would lay low and yet send you a gift subscription every year. Maybe she's in witness protection???
ReplyDeleteYou both look SO happy.
ReplyDeleteThis is sweet. I hope she finds you again.
ReplyDeleteMaybe she's in witness protection???
ReplyDeleteLMAO!
I have had so many friends that I wonder about and have lost contact with. Most of them were online but we used to talk all the time. I don't know what happened but o well. Happy Bornday to your friend.
ReplyDeleteAmy
http://journals.aol.com/visionaydiva1/AVisionaryDiva/
http://journals.aol.com/visionarydiva1/ABookClubforJLanders/
It seems to me that she does what contact with you. Otherwise, why would she continue to send you a subscription every year. If I were you, I'd bite the bullet and hunt her down. Shoot, a little internet search is probably all that it would take.
ReplyDelete::::nudge-nudge:::: Come on, do it! :-) ---Robbie