When I was ten years old, my parents announced to us (my brother and me) that we would be moving to a place called North Carolina. It seemed like an adventure every step of the way. The garage sale, the packers (who packed a kitchen trash can full of garbage), the movers (who were very polite and only broke one thing, which they felt remorse for and quickly filed a claim, but still smelled like salami) and all of the goodbyes. I never felt sad about leaving my friends, my school or my grandparents, even. I remember going to school and telling my teacher, Mrs. Gallaghan (who was a bitch) that I had some exciting news to share. When I told the class that I was moving, I did not get the response that I was hoping for. I expected everyone to be wildly excited for me and even a little bit jealous. Instead, I got, "well, Nancy-that's not exciting news at all. Why would you want to go away from everyone you know?" and questions along that same line. My friend, Celeste, had a going away party for me and it was fun, but I couldn't get why people weren't excited for me.
Now, I get it.
In my adult life, I've had friends come and go. You make friends based on similar circumstances- but when the circumstances change, sometimes the friendships don't transition. As a college student, I worked at a camp during the summer. During those summers, the friends I made at camp were like sisters. We got "friendship ear piercings"--we each got one hole and split a pair of earrings. Camp would end. A few letters passed, Christmas cards, an email here and there--now I'm left with just scars in my ears.
When I left teaching for motherhood in 2004, I knew that the school would be just fine. I was not one of those teachers who thought the school couldn't function without me. I did, however, think that some of the friendships with colleagues would have stayed truer. Workplace acquaintances, huh? It's like having a comrade on the front lines, but when the war is over--you go back to your life and forget about them.
There are a few people who remain treasured friends. Seems like months can pass without a word between us and then we can pick up mid-sentence from our last conversation. There is no agenda between us, nothing to gain from being each other's friend and no one is "keeping score".
I guess this whole rant is prodded by Nick and John's departure. In the last couple of years, they have really taught me a lot of lessons. How to be a good neighbor, how to make people come together and most importantly, tolerance. Not just in the sense of tolerating their choices, but understanding that love is love is love. Even if it doesn't fit the description that you've always used. Like adding a new word to your vocabulary--maybe not a NEW word--but an equal meaning for a word that you already knew. They left a few days ago and I wonder where our friendship will end up. I envy their position of being able to take off into the unknown without a Plan. No idea where they will end up, no obligations, no deadlines--nothing. Exhilarating, but terrifying at the same time.
I am hopeful that our relationship will be able to transcend this move. That it was as strong as I thought it was and that we were not just friends of convenience, situation or geography. Only time will tell.
To be continued...
Friday, March 13, 2009
I came across this picture today and it really made me realize how quickly this little girl is growing up! The "passy" is gone (thank goodness! Ewww...that thing had gotten gross--chewed up and slimey!) and sometimes "Rabbie" gets left behind without Anna Jane having a meltdown.
The outfit she has on in the photo has gone into the "LilliBelle Box"--the box where outgrown clothes are put until enough are ready to be packed away. Anna Jane thinks that all of her outgrown toys and clothes go to the little girl down the street who she loves--Lilli Belle---hence the name of the box! I haven't quite wrapped my head around the fact that we probably won't be having another child, so I'm continuing to save. The day will come when I face facts, and then Otis will have soooooooo much room in "his" attic.
Why am I so attached to these little girl artifacts? It absolutely made me cry and nearly curl up into a ball when I cleaned her closet out the last time. I am such a sentimental pup.
Wonder if my mother felt the same way?
Sunday, March 1, 2009
I have been wanting to make homemade chicken stock for so long. Every time Martha or Ina gives recipe directions and says to "add stock, preferably homemade--of course !", I've wanted to see if there really was a difference. Of course...there is. It was a relaxing afternoon, the house smelled wonderful and now I have in the freezer:
16 quarts of stock and 9 quarts of cooked meat--just right for chicken salad or casseroles .