I was observing a group of college friends over lunch the other day and it brought me back to my own college days.
I adored my university experience; it is where I met my lifelines, my Rat Pack. Nine of us met freshman year and eventually all lived together, crammed into a five bedroom house on North Henry Street. We ruled the world back then with our Discmans and fake ID’s. We had youth and hairspray on our side. We were unstoppable.
We have experienced so much since those beer soaked days of college 20 years ago. We have rallied around each other through divorce, miscarriage, infertility, and aging. There have been cancer scares, pregnancy scares (back when all of us combined couldn’t have changed a diaper), and a million everyday dramas.
But, it’s the everyday conversations I cherish the most: usually about a clueless mother-in-law, a child’s suspect mole, a rodent problem. We manage most of these conversations through humor. We name the rodent (Roger) while our friend hysterically cries into the phone because he scurried through her daughters’ nativity scene, a shepherd haphazardly knocked to the floor.
We leave messages asking what Roger would like for Christmas; does he prefer boxers or briefs, what it’s really like to live at the Rog-Mahal?
The laughter comes from a “no bullshit” rule we unwittingly cemented in the early days of friendship. You don’t get away with anything in this group. We still bring up stories from 15 years ago when one of us said or did something embarrassing.
There was the time one of us left a bar with a guy. The next morning, we pressed her, unrelenting. After denying anything happened for 20 minutes, she finally yelled out, “FINE, WE 69’ED.” That phrase is still used once a week by one of us trying to explain her way out of an uncomfortable situation.
We always have each other’s backs. We aren’t afraid to tell the truth – even if it’s the last thing the other really wants to hear. That’s the thing about true friendship – they become the mirror you look through to glimpse your real self. You can be untruthful, but realize from their familiar expression that you both know it’s a lie.
We are scattered throughout the country now but flock together every chance we get. We have our annual girl’s trip (which most years turns into 2 or 3), where we laugh, drink, and try on each other’s clothes and problems. We are all mothers now and we shamelessly tease the one who is most concerned with germs; the same one who used to ‘borrow’ our underwear in college to avoid laundry. That’s the magic about friendships that last this long; you know everything about each other and love them more because of it.
These women are the first ones I call for major life moments such as “Guys, my 11 year old has pubes.” They respond back with just the right amount of astonishment and ask essential questions like, “Exactly how many and what color?” Another chimes in with, “In other news, I have lost control of my children and believe they may strangle me in my sleep.” And on and on, until I find myself unable to see through tears of laughter.
These women are strong, hard-working, multi-tasking forces of nature. Most are the bread winners of their family and manage work, meals, doctors’ appointments, and after school activities. They run marathons, give to charities, and organize school fundraisers.
We are lucky enough to live behind the curtains of each other’s lives. Too often, I see women try to impress each other. They brag about their latest vacation, piece of jewelry, or their children’s latest accomplishment. Behind the curtain is we agonize over a missed promotion, whether we are having sex enough with our husbands, whether we are we doing….enough? That is where the brilliance happens.
I realize how lucky I am to have these women in my life, and I clutch them tightly. They are my family, my salvation; my mirror. No matter what any of us face in the next 20 years, we will not go it alone.
On one of our vacations a few years back, my friend raised her glass and said, “My mom died when she was 39, the age we are now. She never got to experience anything past this age. I am so grateful to be here in these moments with you.” We cried and nodded, understanding how blessed we were to experience this life together.
I believe that author Kelly Corrigan said it best when she said, “Eventually, someone who is not supposed to die will – maybe one of us, maybe a husband, God forbid a child – and all this celebrating and sharing and confessing will make certain essential comforts possible. We’ll rally around and hold each other up and it won’t be nearly enough but it will help the time pass just a hair faster than it would have otherwise.
We will wait patiently and lovingly for that first laugh after the loss. When it comes, and it will come, we will cry as we howl as we clutch as we circle. We will transcend, ladies. Because we did all this, in that worst moment, we will transcend.”
And so we will.
You can find Julie at anothermotherblog.com or at facebook.com/anothermotherblog or Twitter @74amb.