First Friend

Jenny and Cathy - Dance Recital 1980

   I was driving home tonight from an event for Serenity Retreat that featured my dear friend Tina, who I talk a lot about on this blog, who gave a moving, very spirit-filled speech about how healing prayer turned her life around, ridding her of chronic fatigue.  I hope to visit Serenity Retreat soon so I will have more on that later.
   My thoughts were on friendship, and memories of great friends, when (as it always seems to happen)  I heard the radio announcer (probably Delilah) talking about all the ways we, as young kids found that first friend.  She speculated that maybe it was because she helped you with your locker the first day of school, or he lived in the same neighborhood as you, or that first friend came by way of alphabetical rows of school desks and it was proximity that brought her into your life.  It got me thinking about the friends that have passed through my life, past and present, all wonderful and different.
     I met my first best friend, Cathy, when I was 3-years-old on Halloween night. She came to my door dressed as Casper the friendly ghost.  I recall trying to peek behind her plastic mask to see who she was.  She lived right around the corner from me.  How lucky I was! My elementary years were filled with hours at her house.  It was there that I had Ramen noodles for the first time, saw the THRILLER video for the first time, learned how to play Heart on Soul on her piano, had my first sleep-over, listened to the Bee Gees for the first time, learned how to play double solitaire, and saw "Revenge of the Nerds" (sad to say) for the first time and thought nothing of how inappropriate it was, but how funny it was to laugh like a nerd.  I often wonder if Cathy has the same memories that I do.
    That's one thing about me, my memory sticks.  I can recall small details about old friendships that most people would have tossed out to make room for new information. It's a blessing and a curse.  A blessing because I could have sat here and listed 10 pages more about my first best friend,  a burden because having so many memories, often leaves me living in the past.  And it was such a lovely past.  I pine for my children to have the same past, the same experiences.  The freedom of running to a friend's house barefooted, of chasing an ice-cream truck on bikes, of walking into a friend's house unannounced and feeling totally at home, and the freedom of being little and naive.