Friendship Stories

This is another story about one of the four road trips I've made in the past six weeks to see friends and family. The most recent, this past weekend, to Western Pennsylvania to see a dear friend, who has been absent from my life for about twelve-fifteen years. Many years ago, we were musicians who practiced and performed together. Or rather, he was the musician and I, the wanna-be rock singer. Life took us down different paths and these days, he's a celebrity in a circuit of excellent musicians in a small mountainous village in western Pennsylvania. I'm an English teacher.

Actually, the trip took me back to an old dream that I never pursued, one that haunts me. But, aren't all unfulfilled promises and dreams haunting? Like the old barn in the picture that persists in standing at the side of the paved highway, beneath power lines held taut by the poles, this dream has wrapped itself tightly around my heart. It may deteriorate, even though, like the old barn, it's cast against the promise of an afternoon summer sky and surrounded by lush greenery and wildflowers. It may dry up and blow away, like a fragile leaf unable to cling to the branch of a birch tree. But, I don't think it will.

In a similar way, friendships stand up under all sorts of conditions--rain, sun, changes in seasons. At least most of mine have. I tend to choose friends who are stable, down-to-earth, unaltering souls who don't surprise me much. Sure, I like the spontaneous, fun-loving, changable folk as well, but my favorite friends allow themselves to be predictable in my eyes. I'm often the daredevil, the strong outgoing person of the pair. This is the dynamic I prefer in a friendship because it grounds me, the way a storm restores energy to the earth.

Another close friend--not so close in proximity--he lives in Sweden these days, has re-appeared and brought with him the comfort of his friendship with my late husband. Don is one of those unrockable people I love to surround myself with. A loyal friend to the end.

His memories of my husband, Mike, remind me of the fun we all shared. We also shared some of the bad times with Don, the difficult times he had and...well, the kinds of things we all endure as human beings.

Two more friends have recently come back into my life--Dan and Jen, a young couple who shared a very difficult time with me, after my husband's death. About two days after I arrived back in Pennsylvania, the two of them (and their three little ones) drove in from Utah. It has been a wonderful reunion, full of fun and celebrations.

Those who know me, know about Dan, the student in my English class who, after being told that I wouldn't be returning to teach the last half of the semester because of Mike's death, sent gorgeous white lillies. Within weeks, Dan, Jen and church missionaries were at my front door to help me through the long period of grief. Dan and Jen reflect the kinds of friends who defy boundaries, dare to cross lines to reach out during times of need. These friends are irreplaceable.

I was raised traveling the world and taught that, in spite of so-called wrong turns, we are never really lost. So, I learned to read signs, to know when a sign is really a symbol, a metaphor for what life means (whatever that means!). So far, every path I've taken has revealed a sign, something concrete to help me make sense of my life experiences. I look for these things--signs that we are meant to be here, on this planet doing exactly what we are doing. And, these friends tell me so.