There is an old saying about being lucky to have had three good
friends in life, but in mine, I have found, I have been blessed with a great
many more. At the age of 52, I find myself surrounded by a great many
people that I do not even consider to be just good friends, for they are my
best friends. I do not use that term lightly, for to do so, would
diminish the term's value and meaning. To me though, these individuals
embody the very definition of the word "best". They have truly
celebrated the joys that life has brought me, as well as helped me to shoulder
all my burdens. Perhaps, it is when the burdens are the heaviest, that
the depth of their friendships are demonstrated the clearest though, for joy is
easy to share, but sorrow, not so much. It was often during those hardest of
moments in life, the ones when hot tears burned my cheeks and when I could see
tears of their own flowing down theirs that I truly understood how lucky I was
to count them among my friends. They were never just sad during the
times when my heart ached; during those times their hearts ached, too.
There was a time in my life, when I had very few friends with whom
I was close, and the ones that I did have were seldom women. Those boys,
now men, are still a part of my life, and remain as important to me as do my
own two brothers. What surprises me today though is that the majority of
my best friends are women and I owe that, I think, to a few women in
particular. It is a group so small that I can count its number on a
single hand. I met them at different times in my life, but it was their love
and their loyalty, that truly enabled me to let down my guard, with so many
others. They helped me to open my heart to all the other women who now hold
such an important place within it. These few are the best of the best, and
to me their friendships are like the horizon, for I do not need continuous
proof of its existence. I know it is always close by, and that it goes on
forever. They are there for me without question, and the relationship is
reciprocal.
Of these few there is one whose life is most intertwined with mine
though, and her name is Anna. She is truly remarkable in every way, and
has been a part of my life for the last 27 years. Our friendship began at
work, but spilled over into our home lives, as we brought together our
daughters, Holly and Alana, who were only a year apart, to begin a friendship,
which still endures to this day. Alana was the last of Anna's two
children, while I went on to have three more, but Anna played as an important a
role in my other daughters' lives, as she had in Holly's. Their
childhoods were filled with one night sleepovers at Anna’s that transformed
into three day stays and, even then, they only came home when I resorted to
threats. She didn't make pancakes that came frozen out of a box...she
made them from scratch and shaped them to look like Mickey Mouse. I might
have bought them their dolls, (although she bought Olivia a whole collection
that she still has to this day), but it was Anna who, when the girls awoke one
morning after a sleepover at her house, had crocheted the beautiful
blankets that they found those dolls covered up with. It was Anna who
taught each one of them to swim and Anna who taught them how to fish, while I,
for my part, stayed on dry land filming the events. I have videos of her
putting the disgusting worms on their lines, and then bravely removing the
flapping fish from off of them, after they were caught. Anna has always been
fearless. She sewed all 5,000 of the girls' annoying Girl Scout badges onto
their vests, after coming over to my house and, to her great horror, seeing
that I was attaching all of them with safety pins. All their birthday
cakes, as well as my own, were baked by Anna. One year she made me one
that was shaped like tea pot; not flat like a picture of a teapot, but
three-dimensional, like a real one. It was so beautiful that I refused to allow
anyone to eat it, and for three months I kept it, until it collapsed in a heap,
much to Anna's amusement and to my dismay. For Olivia, her Godchild, she
sewed all of the Christmas outfits that she and Olivia would decide upon
together, while pouring over patterns during the weeks preceding the holiday.
Years later, with her usual flair for genius, she presented Olivia with a quilt
that she made for her, consisting of swatches of fabric from every single one
of those dresses she that she had so lovingly sewn for her. One birthday,
she and her husband, Mark, gave her a room as a birthday present. They
knew of the unused space we had underneath our basement stairs, and they
surprised her by carpeting the floor and putting fabric over the ceiling.
They then filled it with hand sewn pillows of every shape imaginable, to rest
upon, so that Olivia and her friends would have a cozy "oasis" to
read and to play in.
She has stood by me in my hard times, too. She was there at
the hospital when Dave was first admitted and we found out that he had Multiple
Sclerosis. Her support for both of us has never wavered once,
through all the years. She made meals for my family after each of my back
surgeries, and then spent hours while I recovered, cruelly beating me at
Scrabble.
She has not only shared my personal joys, but often has been the
reason for them; like when we would take vacations together to her family's cabin
or to our travel trailer, in Port Sanilac. One of my very favorite
memories is when, while up for a fall weekend in Port Sanilac, she and I walked
together, along the residential street that hugs the water. We noticed
that one of the residents had amassed an enormous pile of leaves on their front
lawn so, without any words passing between us, we both suddenly burst into a
run and jumped into the middle of them. Just two typical women in their 40's,
behaving exactly as one would expect...if they only happened to be several
decades younger than they were. A car passing by us actually stopped to
commend us on our decision.
There are so many more memories that I could share, but I think
the point is made. I have been blessed with the friendships of many
remarkable women, and most definitely, by one named, Anna. I am sure you
are asking yourself at this point, "Well, I see why Amy wants her as a
friend, but why does she want Amy?" ...Don't worry; I am not
offended. I asked Anna that question, myself, once.
"You make me laugh," was her reply...somehow, that has
never seemed like reason enough. Here's hoping that a heartfelt posting
on a blog helps to even things up a little more. Thank you, Anna...thank
you for being my "best" best friend.
