She opened the cupboard to pull out a puzzle for Lucas, and I saw through the shear number of activities stored there, that she loves being a Grandma. My mind then flashes back to a moment where she found me hiding in that closet over 20 years ago. Her daughter had invited me over afterschool but then remembered she wasn’t allowed to have friends over that day. She quickly hid me in the closet before confessing to her Mom that I was in it. I cannot even begin to describe how hilarious and embarrassing that was. There is a lot of history in that house.
We chat over a glass of wine, about Lucas, about my Mom, about everything that’s happened over the past couple of months. I feel instant comfort and familiarity and my heart aches that I’m no longer the little girl who used to come over for playdates with her daughters 30 years previous. She is so welcoming and caring and I will-back the tears that well up behind my eyes.
Her daughters, my longtime friends, eventually arrive and they feel like my long-lost sisters. We all, soon, sit to have dinner, conversation flows easily, and I marvel at how perfect the meal is. Lucas, of course, gets antsy and wants to be excused from the table. “It’s okay”, they understand. I sit directly across from my dear friend, her eldest daughter, and we talk about things and I feel like we are instantly close again. She is such a great person and I regret not having made more effort over the years. Friends like that don’t come along often. I make a silent promise to myself that this will be a new beginning for us.
As the evening winds down, her daughters are both getting ready to head out the door with their children. We all say our goodbyes and I turn to thank our host.
“Let’s do this again soon, okay?” she says. We hug and I know that she means it.
“I would really like that”, I reply.
And I mean it too.
