While flying home for my high school reunion, I wrote in my journal about my friend Mary. Although we come from different backgrounds and our day-to-day lives are different, she remains one of my closest friends.
I just finished reading some magazines, enjoying a quiet few moments en route to New York. What a coincidence. The newest issue of "Real Simple" hits on two of the topics I have been talking about with Mary, the art of buying well fitting underwear and coloring your hair at home to save money. Mary and I can talk about anything from unsightly nose hair to pierced tongues to the weather. She can laugh at goofy things like I do yet still be very serious when the moment calls for it. I don’t think there is anyone I talk to quite like her.
Mary is leaving Minneapolis to be with the one she loves. Her "Steve" lives in San Francisco. Time flies by quickly and it is hard to believe that Mary will be gone in just two weeks.
There is something about Mary. I’ve never known someone who has to have things "her way" or no way. She can be refreshing, honest and a source of great inspiration. Our daily lives are not similar. I am in the motherhood/part time job trenches while she can spend time power shopping for designer goodies at discount stores and do yoga at night to relax.
Mary can give great advice. Even though she doesn’t have to deal with screaming kids and arguments with husbands, her instructions are sound. Take time to think of yourself for a change. Don’t do things that add more stress to the mix. A cool glass of wine and a bubble bath can fix almost anything.
Mary recently sat with me for 7 hours in the emergency room of a local hospital. We laughed at magazines that were over 5 years old and sat aghast together as the security forces at the hospital captured a guy from the psych ward who was trying to escape. I spared her the actual examination I had in the E.R., although she came in hours later to make sure I was ok and listened to the gory details of the blood tests the doctor did as well as my unsavory catheter story.
She has watched me struggle with part time employment and the stresses of unreliable daycare. She has listened to me rant and rave about ear infections, pneumonia, augmentin and dirty diapers. Through it all, she has had compassion for all of my stories and a laugh when things could not be any less funny. Isn’t that what friends are for?
