#47 Friendships: Old, New & Confusing

Slithering through the years (1972). We started in New Jersey and moved West to Harrisburg in central Pennsylvania. When we realized that our area codes changed, this was a bit much for our friendship to manage as we compared the size of our backyards.  Mine: larger and more rural. Yours: smaller, like a postage stamp, but with more refined perennials and healthier grass. I didn’t need a swing set after 5^th grade, anyhow. Who does? Oops! You doooo! There was nothing behind my house but a rocky field and survey-stake markers prepared to uproot everything and continue the growth of the subdivision. Until that happened, I hid in the tall dead grass and stared up at the white sky trying to figure out why we moved, as I held back my sobs.

I did not have the thighs or courage for gymnastics. Who the fuck does?

Oooops! You do! I saw your perfect cartwheels and round offs across the wiry grass in your teensy striped jumper. All legs, and not much else. Uh huh, you’re skinny and I’m not and my mom took me to the Colonial Hills Mall off of Linglestown Road to get my first Teenform bra. I could not wait to get out of there, but it is padded and that helps. I prefer not to wear it, but I suppose I have to.

Do you have one yet?

I noticed hair under your armpits at the lunch table and I was moderately grossed out until I got a sudden case of ADHD and made everyone giggle with my borderline sophisticated North Jersey wit. Except for that girl Cheryl! When I stuck my finger in her cake in the cafeteria and laughed myself silly, because seeing the hole print in the Vanilla icing made her super angry at me!

Can’t she take a joke?

Guess not.

In 5^th grade we rode horses and in art class we drew portraits of each other. You were black and It was cool figuring out what shade of brown to make your skin, especially since you had glasses and I wanted to get the flesh tone to be just right, but didn’t want to insult you because I used ESPRESSO and COFFEE crayons. You didn’t mind and thought I was a good artist. Your eyes were friendly and stared straight into mine and your lips were large and dark pink. Your teeth were perfect, giant while seashells and you never needed braces. You lucky duck, you.

BAMMM!

Then the Rabbi’s family moved in across the street and I was glad to meet his little kids and hang out with Sarah Beth, his stressed out wife, with a smile tattooed on her 30 year-old face. Five kids with smelly pants and runny noses and Sarah Beth never had a frown on her pleasant face. They moved to Harrisburg from Ohio and after a year, there were still unpacked cardboard boxes in the empty living room.

When I peeked, the plastic circle-amber stained glassy door obscured my view into the entryway when I wanted to pseudo-babysit. I also liked surveying the premises to compare and contrast the architectural details between their house and mine. We had slightly nicer garden shrubs and “stone” in our entryway. The new skinny trees with a few leaves dangling from the branches were held up with wires and slingshots.

Our garage was a two car.

Theirs was one car.        Oil from the car and lawnmower stained the new cement driveways.

Oh well.

So, in 8th grade we moved again, east, and a million years flew by.  But I’ll write about that some other time.

Now, I have to weigh in on current slithering friendships. It is late on a Saturday afternoon and I have no one to talk to. How did that happen?

My husband and I are a two-headed hydra. You know the type: with orange skin and flames coming out of both our mouths. Attached at the hip, two wings, etc.. Fierce. Blah, blah, blah.

I used to get lonely in Harrisburg. The truth is, I still get lonely.

I forget about it a lot, but when the feeling surfaces it is terrifying. It is like taking a nap on a hot day with a really full stomach. You wake up super thirsty, feeling disoriented, bloated and gross. A cold cup of coffee does not work though mentally it feels like it can cure what ails the mood.  Yes, coffee is a legal drug.

Then there are the disappointments and lies in surround-round. How did that happen? I thought everyone was gonna get nicer and more sane over time. Yeah, sanity is totally overrated.  You lie and don’t return my calls.  Yes, I know I sound like I am in fifth grade, so do not rub it in. And don’t tell anyone, but I know you will because you are a ruthless gossip.

And then how, I can't really say, I met you ladies. Sometimes we lunch and have dinner and drink sangria or just milk.  You are mortal, real and your bodies and minds are unique and warm. You know, you are really nice. My luck changed somehow, somewhere. How did I get so lucky?

You guys are really real, good, nice and a little off.  A little strange.

Like me.

I hope we stay connected, because I cannot keep up with those slithering friendships. I just can't.