Girlfriends, part two.

“How important it is for us to recognize and celebrate our heroes and she-roes.” ~ Maya Angelou

I entitled one of my early posts:  “Thank God for Girlfriends.”  I referred to the girlfriends as members of two groups in that post.  Tonight some specific kind acts by some of my girlfriends are on my mind.  I can’t sleep because I was so tuckered out after the grandchildren left this afternoon that I took a three-hour nap.  Never a good idea.  But what a great time we had in the back yard looking for Easter eggs and discovering what treasures were inside them.  But I digress as blogger Helen of margaretandhelen.wordpress.com likes to say.

I was thinking in particular of a dear friend whom I will refer to as J.  Unlike many of my dearest friends, I had not known J very long when the divorce fiasco began.  But she and I had bonded right away.  We had a love of books and reading and we shared books with each other.  Also, we are both very liberal politically.  Two good reasons to become good friends.  I dedicate this paragraph to J because she proved to be one of my greatest supporters and allies in a very dark time for me.  I could call her up at a  moment’s  notice and she would meet me down at the coffee shop for one of our many “chew the bastard out” sessions.  She was more indignant about how my ex was treating me than I was.  So, J, I thank you for your unconditional support and caring and time freely given and your worn out ear.  And for being angry for me when I didn’t have the energy.  You were exactly what I needed.

Several days later…

Another such friend is C except that she is my oldest friend.  Hee, hee.  I love telling her that.  We’ve known each other since we were ten years old.  I’m actually four months older than she is.  What do I say about C?  She was with me for the birth of all three daughters.  She has unconditionally loved and supported me through two divorces.  When we were children we meandered all over our small mountain town.  And when we went home later than we should have, we helped each other figure out what to tell our parents so that our stories were more or less the same.

C just left my house yesterday after a couple of days of talking non stop.  C is one of those rare friends who can walk in the door or pick up the phone and restart the conversation as if there had been no interruption.  And back in the days when we were rearing our children, that could sometimes be a year or two.  But we don’t have to talk.  We are also comfortable with silence while we read or knit or crochet.

There’s much more I could say but I imagine you get the picture.  So…here’s to you C, my pal, my confidante.  Thank you!

They bloom in clusters.

It has briars. It must be a rose.

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