...I Remember You...

A vacation is supposed to make you feel revived. When you come back home you should feel rejuvenated and re-energized to take on the world again. But when your vacation involves a poignant journey into your past it can reveal a lot about the person you have become. You can either come home renewed or depressed. Nothing about the vacation I returned home from this summer was anything less than uplifting. Time flickered away like the many candles that were burned, and before I knew it, two weeks had passed. Secrets, splendid points of view, and spirited conversations arose.

Adventurous antiquing, good food and being back in my home state surrounded by the beautiful Great Lakes filled the gaps of my heart as we consumed a variety of good wine. Girlfriends and Sisters of the Heart made this one of the most memorable trips I have made in a very long time. There is enough joy in my heart to last me until the next time we all meet again.

I recently invited my son to lunch. He wanted to know, and I wanted to tell him, where I went, and whom I met with. Well naturally, I brought pictures to the restaurant to give him a slide show. After all, what is a good story without pictures? When he came upon one of the pictures of myself with two other women in a restaurant, he wanted to know who they were and how they fit into my life. I told him about that particular evening, and as I told how the events unfolded it brought tears to my eyes.

It all started many years ago when two girls were born three days apart and lived two doors away from one another from the day they were born. I’m talking about my friend Sue, and me. I liked to rub it in when we were kids about being the oldest, but it was always in fun. We were the first two babies to be baptized on the same Sunday at the same church. We went to the same schools, and did all the childhood things together, learning to ride bikes, skate, and no matter what we did, it was non-competitive, no quarrels, and no jealousy. We did everything together and for the most part were inseparable for many years, especially during the formidable and character building years of our youth.

I moved away after we started high school. I was so mad at the world during that time, I abandoned my childhood friend and my prior life and reinvented myself (I’m not going into that historical era, because it’s irrelevant to this story). Sue was my Maid of Honor when I married two weeks out of high school, it only seemed fitting she would be the one. After that, our lives became very different, and although she was forever in my heart, we drifted apart.

We reconnected during the past couple years and agreed to meet half way from where I was staying and from where she lived. Sue was bringing her 93-year-old mother with her, who I considered my second mom growing up. Mrs. S’s law was my mom’s law and if I screwed up or misbehaved, she had the inherent right to scold me like one of her own kids. But, I also remember many hugs and kind words that made me cherish those growing years.

Mrs. S suffers from Alzheimer’s and has for some time now. Sue told me she may not remember me because she has days she doesn’t recognize her own daughter or other family members. I assured her it didn’t matter, because I remember who she is and who she was to me. They arrived at the restaurant shortly after I did, and in a blink of an eye, the past forty years was blurred and I saw my friend and her mom as I remembered so long ago. I fought back the tears, because I knew there would be plenty when we said good-bye. The wait staff graciously ushered us to our own private area to reminisce, which ended up being way too short. I thought Mrs. S may have remembered my mother or me from the bright glimpse in her eyes when Sue tried to convey who I was, but the conversation was thwarted in a matter of a few minutes. Flutters of memories flashed in my mind, I saw her laughing with my mom and planning our combined birthday parties, the Mother and Daughter Banquets we attended with our grandmothers. I smelled the cookies she made and the warmth of the hot cocoa she fixed after we froze ourselves ice-skating, all of which seemed like yesterday.

Like all good things, they sometimes come to an end. I hate goodbyes. I loathe the sinking feeling I get when the words pass over my lips. It’s inevitable and you know it’s going to happen. It doesn’t mean you have to like it, you just accept it. Placing my sunglasses on before the tears welled in my eyes, Sue and I hugged. I hid what I dreaded the most…another goodbye. I reached in the car and hugged my dear friend’s mom, and as I did, she kissed me on the cheek and said, “I love you, Mary Louise.” In that instant, I was reduced to being six years old again.