Once a Year Friendship

While in St. George I went to lunch with a dear friend, Jennifer. Jen and I worked together for less than a year. Far too brief when finding a dear friend. Jen's husband, the Ph.D. Biologist, commuted for a year or two to St. George from Utah county while Jen single parented four days a week. At the end of the trial period, they concluded that the commute was too much and they moved to St. George.

Once a year Jen and I get together and try to stuff a year of friendship into an hour and a half.  It would be awkward, I suppose, if it weren't Jen. It's the kind of friendship where we can have silence for a year and pick up on a conversation we had the last time we talked as if there was no pause.

We miss the intricacies of each others' lives but we get the concepts and come away feeling validated and loved.

In the past year I missed the intricacies of Jennifer's Rheumatoid arthritis aggressively attacking her joints to the point where she has traded her soccer ball for a cane. I missed that she lost a lot of her hair in her chemotherapy as an effort to slow the progression of her disease. I missed her son's mission call to Korea even though he took four years of Spanish and two years of Japanese. I missed her financial difficulties and will probably miss her relocation.  I missed her prednisone reactions and her children's accomplishments.

I missed her laughter through it all. Her cane has a name and is treated like a pet. Her new hair style does nothing to detract from her beautiful face. I missed her positive attitude when she tells me that she has it all; four great children who are thriving, growing and a husband who loves her and laughs at life with her.

The hour and half ended far too soon. We hugged each other and promised to write then rushed back to our busy lives. She had her son to pick up and take to the temple for the first time. I had a vacation to attend to with my family.

My spirits buoyed by the woman who has it all despite the irritants of life, I could hardly wait to get back and play with my children and husband. I suddenly missed them desperately.

I look forward to my perception-shifting-hour-and-a-half-a-year-friendship with Jen. I expect next year she'll finish the sentence she started and I'll remember it.