Friendship True

She almost died a few years back.  But she made it through.  She’s tough like that.  Eighty-eight years old, and she still kicks strong.  She’s lived alone for most of her adult life, so she loves company and excuses to make peach cobbler and potato soup and things of that nature.  She’s good at it too.  The baking.  Pretty much everything domestic, actually.  It’s one reason why she’s been so excited about her friend’s visit from California.  She’s looked forward to it since the day she heard.

They’ve been friends since 1973, before I could even say the word, let alone understand its meaning.  And now here they are all grown up and then some more, still nourishing their comraderie and visiting each other’s homes half a continent away.

My kindergartener walks in the door announcing her new friends’ gifts — a homemade bracelet and a picture that declares their mutual fondness — and pondering how she will reciprocate.  She decides on a picture and a piece from her Halloween candy stockpile.  I watch her work, concentrating as she labors for that extra-special gift for her extra-special friend. 

I remember the 37-year-old friendship that still grows today as I watch a two-month-old one just start to bud.

And I breathe in the tenderness of friendship true.

Linking up with Emily today as I unwrap this gift called friendship.