“YOU GUYS I FORGOT TO CHANGE OUT OF MY SLIPPERS!!!”
The laughter began right on schedule. We each arrived eleven minutes late, but the crazy continued on as normal as soon as we jumped out of our minivans. We’d barely made it halfway across the parking lot when I realized I’d forgotten to put on my shoes.
This is what happens when we get together.
Our friendship began in a parking lot.
Ask anyone who knows, but there’s something about the parking lots. Esther and I had finished our school mom duties at the bi-annual PTL pizza making morning. We’d spent the morning side by side, spacing and placing pepperonis. We got to talking on the way out, which led to a conversation about the secret garbage bag purges when we could no longer mentally handle the messes in our kids’ rooms.
“Do you want to be friends?”
It was freezing cold that day and somebody actually said that. I can’t remember which one of us asked first. It sounded so desperate, probably because it was. But along with the desperation came a sense of safely, or else the words would’ve never been said. This is what bonded us-our peculiarity, the solidarity, and mutual obscurity of stay-at-home mom life. She was also a member of the Baptist church at the time. We sang old Baptist hymns in the parking lot once.
She was a gift straight from Heaven.
Then there’s Norma.
I’ve written about Norma before, how every year she’d host a brunch for my birthday. This year I got a birthday card in the mail from Esther. She said she and Norma were hoping we could meet in the middle for lunch sometime to celebrate. I immediately put the card down and shed a tear. My husband, surprised, asked me what was wrong.
“I don’t deserve friends like them”, I said.
And God blessed me anyway.