We were winsome, a little different than the others, often off on our own, always looking in.
I admired her, her poetic way of seeing the world, and her beige suede boots. She was smart, made pen drawings, played classical guitar, wrote poetry. She gave me the boots.
I sketched with pencils and painted, played a little folk guitar and piano, sang at church, wanted to act.
We were both a little rebellious. But we were soul sisters.
Then we went our own ways. Gillian became a writer, married a Frenchman, moved to Paris.
I became a singer/dancer, married an actor, the road was my home.
Now she is a painter, still married to her French soulmate with three beautiful children.
I am a writer, who found her soulmate, and has one perfectly wonderful son and two step daughters. I came home.
Life happens.
But mostly we are two women who found each other again. Love always does.
We said goodbye for now at the airport this morning. We made it even though Siri was taking us to Mitchel Airport in California. We are both praying for Ukraine. 🇺🇦 We are both directionally challenged, but together it works. We wanted to keep driving to California.
What treasure have you rediscovered lately…?
Aw, glad you both made it to your respective homes, Deborah, and hoping you’ll see each other again in the not-so-distant future.
Thanks Mitch, and yes, come spring!
Old friends who know our quirks, our history, likes, and dislikes–and like US anyway–are wonderful treasures! It delighted me to read about your reconnection with Gillian. We too connected with old friends from college just last week; hadn’t seen them for six years. We sat in our jammies the first morning, eating and talking, and drinking coffee and talking some more–til early afternoon!
Nancy, you describe the experience beautifully. When we’re with people who love us, just as we are, and we love just as they are, time becomes holy, it seems to stop, or not exist at all. Three hours can feel like three minutes. It’s the best. Kairos. ❤️