You know you’ve read a great
book when after you finish, it lingers. Maybe it’s for just a few minutes,
maybe for weeks, or maybe it never leaves and becomes a permanent part of you.
Perhaps the beautiful language touched your poetic side, or the events
unfolding aligned with your own experiences, or maybe a character was so
familiar it was like looking in the mirror.
One of my many goals in
writing is to create stories that linger, that hover about your head like you
just woke up but can’t shake the dream you had.
Good friends are just like
that. As I’ve moved through life, and I’m sure your experiences are similar, friendships
evolved when I least expected it. Some over serving hotdogs at the school’s
movie night, some while lamenting over a micro-managing boss, or some while
waiting in line during the midnight premiere of the latest superhero flick. Most
of these new people remained acquaintances, some became friends, and sometimes I
discovered confidantes, who’s kindness, strength, and humor spread to those
around them, like warm butter on hot toast.
For convenience purposes, I
lump my friends into categories. I have high school friends (oh the stories),
college friends (lots of blackmail opportunities there), work friends, and mom
friends. The latter group forged over the common ground of children, either on
playgrounds, at pick up, or during library hour. The Mom Friend group fluctuates
often based on children’s interests or grade level, but eventually bonds will
form that even quarreling children and crazy schedules can’t mar. I’ve been
lucky to meet several incredible women who fall into this category.
This week, my heart is
saddened that one of these strong, witty, interesting women must move a few
states away. We discovered a kindred spirit while our children ran pell mell
over the playground they were too old to use; a shared love of all things Harry
Potter, and Star Wars, and musical, and bookish. She can quote Lord of the
Rings, for crying out loud. She shared stories of her children’s antics,
fascinating family history, and scrumptious cakes with humor, generosity, and compassion.
I will miss our daily
conversations at after-school pick up, talking Big Bang Theory, and learning
the secret to singing is clenching butt checks (though that probably won’t help
me either). We gabbed with equal fervor about Glee, the idiots that lose all
common sense when entering the school parking lot, and the rights of special
needs kids. We recommended great books and movies to each other, and bonded
over the final Harry Potter movie.
When she saw something not
right in our community, rather than complain, she took action, even with three
energetic children to watch and an LSAT to study for. I hope I can achieve a
fraction of what she accomplishes on a daily basis.
So, on Friday, she leaves us
for Ohio. But in her wake, she will leave many of us savoring the pleasure of
her friendship, just like the very best book.
Goodbye Jenny. And Ohio –
you are one lucky state.
