Yesterday brought the beginning, tomorrow brings the end, and somewhere in the middle we became the best of friends.
I love my friends and I do not have very many as I believe less is more when it comes to true friendships. Along life’s way I have had a startling variety; some friends have become sisters or brothers of my heart, some I have loved deeply but only for a few short years, some were instant, a couple were made out of necessity, and some I simply had too much in common with to keep avoiding and actually felt familiar with them from our first meeting. Both my life best friends are of the last variety.
My First Story
I had known him from babyhood but I never really saw him. During puberty, I was really gawky and unattractive; big head, fly-away hair, big crooked teeth, big eyes in bad need of make-up, flat cheeks, on a body with boobs too developed for my small frame, terribly scrawny arms, a high waist, skinny hairy legs and awfully large feet. Add to that, I was not tall, wore glasses and would slump my shoulders forward instead of standing straight. But I was funny and lively and never shy.
All the popular girls at school had boyfriends … I, of course firstly not being in the popular set and secondly having grown up with boys – did not for the life of me understand the need to get all gushy and excited about the boys at St Patrick’s – a Catholic boys school down the road from where I attended high school. The Convent by the Sea - the one near Karikal Lane, where as a child I had often peered through the fence with my cousins, on our way to swim in the warm tropical waves and or to play in the old gun turret. The Convent with the nuns, who always kept the back gate by the old turret - locked.
It was at a wedding held in the school hall of St Patrick’s that I ‘first’ saw him. My mother and father knew his parents and so they decided to share a table. He was the same age as me and our parents began to tell stories of how as little children our mothers would bump into each other and stop for a chat while they were out on their evening strolls, hoping to catch a light breeze. I was not paying their stories much attention at all, for I was actively trying to appear nonchalant. My heart was beating in a strange manner and my eyes wanted to look at him, without being obvious, of course. Man, he is so cute – I love what he’s wearing.
And so we danced and laughed and had so much fun. Even though I did not think I was pretty, he made me feel beautiful about myself; I really liked him. That night in my sleep, I dreamt a strange dream. He was the one. I shared all of my firsts with him - they came in flashes and I even saw myself married to him. It frightened me to an extent; I was after all, only 14 - I did not want to marry the first guy I thought was cute.
Today, as I believe in karma and rebirth; I realise it was not a dream at all - I was only remembering my relationships with him from before. Jannu, I am so grateful we found each other again so quickly in this lifetime.
Through high school, our friendship developed into a rather childish complicated one with me trying to hide from him as much as possible. Believing I was grown-up compared to him, I had begun to find his behaviour thoroughly lacking in decorum and maturity. I was so 'mature', I would squat down on my hunches in the bus, to hide from him whenever I saw him at the bus-stop.
I love my friends and I do not have very many as I believe less is more when it comes to true friendships. Along life’s way I have had a startling variety; some friends have become sisters or brothers of my heart, some I have loved deeply but only for a few short years, some were instant, a couple were made out of necessity, and some I simply had too much in common with to keep avoiding and actually felt familiar with them from our first meeting. Both my life best friends are of the last variety.
My First Story
I had known him from babyhood but I never really saw him. During puberty, I was really gawky and unattractive; big head, fly-away hair, big crooked teeth, big eyes in bad need of make-up, flat cheeks, on a body with boobs too developed for my small frame, terribly scrawny arms, a high waist, skinny hairy legs and awfully large feet. Add to that, I was not tall, wore glasses and would slump my shoulders forward instead of standing straight. But I was funny and lively and never shy.
All the popular girls at school had boyfriends … I, of course firstly not being in the popular set and secondly having grown up with boys – did not for the life of me understand the need to get all gushy and excited about the boys at St Patrick’s – a Catholic boys school down the road from where I attended high school. The Convent by the Sea - the one near Karikal Lane, where as a child I had often peered through the fence with my cousins, on our way to swim in the warm tropical waves and or to play in the old gun turret. The Convent with the nuns, who always kept the back gate by the old turret - locked.
It was at a wedding held in the school hall of St Patrick’s that I ‘first’ saw him. My mother and father knew his parents and so they decided to share a table. He was the same age as me and our parents began to tell stories of how as little children our mothers would bump into each other and stop for a chat while they were out on their evening strolls, hoping to catch a light breeze. I was not paying their stories much attention at all, for I was actively trying to appear nonchalant. My heart was beating in a strange manner and my eyes wanted to look at him, without being obvious, of course. Man, he is so cute – I love what he’s wearing.
And so we danced and laughed and had so much fun. Even though I did not think I was pretty, he made me feel beautiful about myself; I really liked him. That night in my sleep, I dreamt a strange dream. He was the one. I shared all of my firsts with him - they came in flashes and I even saw myself married to him. It frightened me to an extent; I was after all, only 14 - I did not want to marry the first guy I thought was cute.
Today, as I believe in karma and rebirth; I realise it was not a dream at all - I was only remembering my relationships with him from before. Jannu, I am so grateful we found each other again so quickly in this lifetime.
Through high school, our friendship developed into a rather childish complicated one with me trying to hide from him as much as possible. Believing I was grown-up compared to him, I had begun to find his behaviour thoroughly lacking in decorum and maturity. I was so 'mature', I would squat down on my hunches in the bus, to hide from him whenever I saw him at the bus-stop.
Providence thankfully played childlike pranks and united us, face to face in totally unforeseen and unforgettable moments over and over again through the years until I realised how blind I had been in avoiding him for so long thinking he was ‘such a child’. Especially when today everyone knows … we are the The Travelling Story of Two Small Children.
I am so lucky for I married Alan, my best friend ... we were 22.
I am so lucky for I married Alan, my best friend ... we were 22.
A bowling-ball sigh.
My Second Story
She was 17. I was being taken on a tour to meet the staff at Notre Dame University. It was my first day there and I was feeling the usual nerves one experiences when meeting so many new people. I smiled or shook hands, all the while lurking at the back of my head, the knowledge that I was going to forget their names almost immediately. And to be honest, I did not really care for as my son, Donny would say, as long as you appear friendly and chatty ... people never realise you have not remembered their name.
Then I saw her peering at me from behind her computer monitor. With her immensely curly long dark hair and excited eyes, she gave me a huge smile and a wave. I waved back. For some reason, I was not taken up to her desk to meet her, I thought it strange and I kept looking at her … and she kept smiling.
I sigh a bowling-ball sigh now, looking back to the moment - with perhaps an almost poetic description of our age distance - how I met from a-far the young girl who would become the greatest woman friend I would ever have the privilege of knowing.
A bowling-ball sigh or bbsigh. How would I begin to explain the term she and I use on each other all the time? Suffice to say, if you have ever seen Minnie Driver and David Duchovny in Return to Me, where she sighs in happy contentment as she leans her cheek onto the bowling ball, in the bowling alley – you’ll understand. It is the sigh of joy, gratitude and fulfillment.
I remember the day in August when she turned 18, it was about 4pm when she came dashing down the stairs of the main foyer with strings of colourful helium filled balloons bouncing above her head of curls. She was leaving early to have a celebration that night with her family and friends. I smiled and thought – how young and beautiful she was, I had just turned 36 the month before … which made me exactly double her age. If anyone had told me then that we would become best friends, I would have scoffed at them - she was as Alan had been before, ‘such a child’ - compared to me. Can you believe I was actually using the same ridiculous narrow thinking process – again?
And so in the beginning, it was she who kept making the first move – to having a conversation, to having lunch, to being her confidant where she would come so willingly and with so much trust for advice. I began to really appreciate our times together and soon our relationship became a two-way artery that connected our hearts in ways I had never thought possible with a girlfriend. I had to tell her everything - nothing was fully existent, until she knew about it. We became an anomaly to our family and friends who rightly, could not understand what had passed between us to bring us together with such a fierce loyalty.
When we took separate paths after leaving Notre Dame I think everyone thought we would begin to drift apart. But how do you separate 2 souls who belong together? Before I even believed in rebirth, she had said to me … she believed we had been best friends in a previous lifetime. In her mind, we had been beautiful courtesans - of the highest ranking. I loved it!
Ten years have passed since that ‘first meeting at a distance’ happened. Distance is such an antonym in our relationship, for with my best friend - distance does not exist. We hardly physically see each other or talk on the phone, but we are always together. On email or on sms – our lives and our stories, our laughter and our tears are exactly the same, as if we have spoken to each other face to face.
I carry Nadia in my heart all the time.
She was 17. I was being taken on a tour to meet the staff at Notre Dame University. It was my first day there and I was feeling the usual nerves one experiences when meeting so many new people. I smiled or shook hands, all the while lurking at the back of my head, the knowledge that I was going to forget their names almost immediately. And to be honest, I did not really care for as my son, Donny would say, as long as you appear friendly and chatty ... people never realise you have not remembered their name.
Then I saw her peering at me from behind her computer monitor. With her immensely curly long dark hair and excited eyes, she gave me a huge smile and a wave. I waved back. For some reason, I was not taken up to her desk to meet her, I thought it strange and I kept looking at her … and she kept smiling.
I sigh a bowling-ball sigh now, looking back to the moment - with perhaps an almost poetic description of our age distance - how I met from a-far the young girl who would become the greatest woman friend I would ever have the privilege of knowing.
A bowling-ball sigh or bbsigh. How would I begin to explain the term she and I use on each other all the time? Suffice to say, if you have ever seen Minnie Driver and David Duchovny in Return to Me, where she sighs in happy contentment as she leans her cheek onto the bowling ball, in the bowling alley – you’ll understand. It is the sigh of joy, gratitude and fulfillment.
I remember the day in August when she turned 18, it was about 4pm when she came dashing down the stairs of the main foyer with strings of colourful helium filled balloons bouncing above her head of curls. She was leaving early to have a celebration that night with her family and friends. I smiled and thought – how young and beautiful she was, I had just turned 36 the month before … which made me exactly double her age. If anyone had told me then that we would become best friends, I would have scoffed at them - she was as Alan had been before, ‘such a child’ - compared to me. Can you believe I was actually using the same ridiculous narrow thinking process – again?
And so in the beginning, it was she who kept making the first move – to having a conversation, to having lunch, to being her confidant where she would come so willingly and with so much trust for advice. I began to really appreciate our times together and soon our relationship became a two-way artery that connected our hearts in ways I had never thought possible with a girlfriend. I had to tell her everything - nothing was fully existent, until she knew about it. We became an anomaly to our family and friends who rightly, could not understand what had passed between us to bring us together with such a fierce loyalty.When we took separate paths after leaving Notre Dame I think everyone thought we would begin to drift apart. But how do you separate 2 souls who belong together? Before I even believed in rebirth, she had said to me … she believed we had been best friends in a previous lifetime. In her mind, we had been beautiful courtesans - of the highest ranking. I loved it!
Ten years have passed since that ‘first meeting at a distance’ happened. Distance is such an antonym in our relationship, for with my best friend - distance does not exist. We hardly physically see each other or talk on the phone, but we are always together. On email or on sms – our lives and our stories, our laughter and our tears are exactly the same, as if we have spoken to each other face to face.
I carry Nadia in my heart all the time.
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