Twenty-three years ago I walked into a crowded elementary school cafeteria for a “Welcome 1st Grade Students” lecture given by the Principal of my daughter’s school. Carefully, I steered the stroller, with my son sleeping soundly inside, down the middle row and took an aisle seat in case I had to make a speedy getaway. I was fully prepared for my son to wake up during the speech, with a bag filled with Cheerios, a ‘binky’, and a ‘sippy’ cup filled with apple juice in my arsenal.
Principal Walsh began his speech. Everyone in attendance was listening closely. It was then that I noticed a mom in front of me holding, cuddling, and trying to keep her young daughter happy. I felt a true kinship with this woman that I didn’t know and gently tapped her on the shoulder. She turned and I whispered to her that my son was sleeping, but if her daughter would like some Cheerios, she was welcome to them. A beautiful, broad smile spread across her face. She was thrilled to offer her daughter the cereal.
Luckily for me, my son slept through the entire speech and luckily for the woman in front of me, the Cheerios kept her beautiful daughter happy throughout. After the Principal’s talk was over, we walked outside together and introduced ourselves. This wonderful woman, Robin, told me she had a daughter in Miss Brosso’s first grade class. My daughter was in the same class and our daughters had the same name! We spoke for a few minutes before my son woke up. He was ready for his lunch, so Robin and I exchanged phone numbers and each of us went to our respective homes.
That phone number has been a special lifeline for me these past 23 years. When we first became friends we shared many afternoon coffee chats while our younger children played in the next room. We supported each other through arguments with our husbands, difficulties with school projects, finding summer programs, issues with other friends, and truly anything and everything in between. We made up our own club, W.O. A. H., (Women of Annoying Husbands) when we were in our mid thirties. Our husbands knew of this club and weren’t too fond of it, but they understood, especially when we told them they could have their own club, M. O. A. H. (Men of Annoying Housewives)
When we first met, Robin and I lived in different neighborhoods, but that didn’t keep us from getting together. After a few years, my family found a house that happened to be in their neighborhood. As our children grew, Robin and I only grew closer and more supportive. Being in the same neighborhood, we would call each other whenever the need for a W.O.A.H. meeting arose. We would each walk to the halfway point between our houses, meet each other, and then continue walking until whichever one of us called the meeting had unloaded our issue. After we spoke, we always felt better and could return home with a smile, crisis averted.
We planned our daughters’ Bat Mitzvahs together. We schlepped to photographers, DJs, and finished our dress shopping as a team. We joined the same swim club in the summer and would share a table, laughing, chatting and enjoying our children (who always got along beautifully) and the warm,summer sunshine! We cheered each other when new puppies were brought into the fold, and we cried together when two of them passed away. Every birthday, she would make me coffee and key lime pie and we would sit, laughing and talking, for hours.
Our daughters went to the junior and senior proms with their respective dates together. We took pictures and cried tears of disbelief that our little girls looked so grown-up – where had the years gone? We worried, celebrated, laughed and cried together more times than I could ever count.
Robin was a pillar of strength for me and wouldn’t take no for answer when my nephew passed away and I needed someone to stay in the house and wait for the Shiva tray to be delivered. She made coffee, cleaned up and wouldn’t let me lift a finger. She did the exact same thing when my Dad passed away two years ago. In between those sad events, she listened to me as I expressed my fears and anxieties and she was always willing to stop by with a hug. I can only hope I was half as attentive and generous with her as she was with me as the years have flown by.
Robin and I always understood each other and we always seemed to be going through the exact same things at the exact same time. Now we are both dealing with the issues that surround being “empty nesters” and the issues of parents dealing with problems of aging and the various associated health complications.
Two weeks ago, Robin broke her foot. Robin, who never was good at asking for help, now needs some assistance, no matter what she says. She is so unaccustomed to asking for help, it’s just not easy for her, she is the one who always does the helping! This morning, I brought over what turned out to be some rather lousy breakfast sandwiches, (my intentions were good) but her coffee, now made in her Kerig coffee maker, was still as wonderful as ever. We talked and, as always, we found that after 23 years we still have simply everything in common. It’s truly astounding. However, now, on top of having shared life experiences, we have the amazing gift of decades of shared friendship, a friendship we can count on and trust to always be there.
When I think back to that early Principal’s Welcome talk, I can’t help but feel my heart burst with gratitude. Attending that talk, one that I honestly don’t remember one word spoken by the Principal, afforded me one of the most meaningful friendships anyone could ever have the honor of enjoying. I am blessed with having a handful of women in my life, women without whom my life would be lacking a special joy. I will eventually write a blog about each of them, Jackie, Hope, Jill, Susan, Diane, Linda, Lisa and my cousin, Ellen, but today, sharing coffee with Robin filled my heart with the happiness that is unique to us.
Tomorrow she goes to the doctor to see what the next step is with her broken foot, no pun intended. I hope she doesn’t need surgery, but no matter what, I hope she knows that I will be there for her, a friend to lean on, for always.
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