Friends

I have a fridge full of friends.

Friends are such a great thing! I love my friends. There’s the friend that would help me zip up my jeans in college… I know that sounds a bit absurd… but some may remember when the tighter the jeans the better – and I personally can attest that obviously some folks still wear them that way … and any who have worn tight, tight jeans know that the only way a girl can zip those darn things is to lie on the bed… take a deep breath and have a good friend help you zip them… that’s a friend.

And, there’s the friend that loaned me her shoes and Bobbi Brown makeup because the airlines sent my luggage elsewhere on a recent trip. How ‘bout the friend that offered big bucks to help me when I started a new business years ago. I didn’t take her up on it, but what a friend!

There’s the friend that listens to my complaints, my fears, my joys, and reads all of my writing and tells me how wonderful it is – you have to admit that’s a true friend. When I want honesty – I read it to my husband.

I have a friend who paints with me and we pretend that we’re good. I have a friend that gets silly with me and laughs with me. I have a friend that listens, critiques and brings me a jolt of reality when I need it. I have a friend that shares life’s ups and downs and she would do anything for me. What a friend!

Friends are such a blessing. They send me funny cards, words of inspiration and hugs… when I need them most.

One of my favorite friend reminders is my fridge. It’s full of Christmas photo cards and pictures of our friends and family. Do you have a fridge full of friends? Oh, to be so blessed…

Mom's TAXI

Letting go is hard to do. My son turned 16 this week. He received his driver’s license and he drove himself to school. I almost cried. I didn’t, but I almost did: an era is over. And so it goes.

I turn to the cute, decorative ornaments hanging on my wall that once depicted my family: my husband with a camera, my son with a cowboy hat and six-shooter, my daughter in ice-skates, and me… in a car with the kids in the back seat. The car’s license plate reads, “Mom’s Taxi”.

Mom’s taxi has made its last run. The ornaments were purchased many years ago when our family was much smaller and more dependant on Mom’s ability to taxi, heal the boo-boos, feed the hungry and answer any questions that came out of a four-year-old’s mouth during our car ride. “Why can’t we see the wind?” “If Papaw dies, will I die when I go to sleep?” “How does Santa get down the chimney, and how do we know that we are safe if he’s in our house while we are asleep?” In addition, I would be remiss if I didn’t thank our 42^nd President for this question, “Mom, what is oral sex?” There was a question influenced by a friend’s older siblings… “Didn’t the Nazi’s have sex with their children?” I was also asked the standard, “Where do babies come from?” And “How does the moon hang in the sky and not fall?”

Now both our children have their own wheels, my son isn’t a cowboy, my daughter has long since abandoned the skates, and for a brief moment, I feel as if I’ve lost my identity… I ask, “How do my tears remain in my eyes and not fall?”