as we look at each other through older eyes.....
Did you ever notice that when you see a friend from your childhood who you haven't seen in a very long time--they look exactly the same? As you go to embrace each other--both of you say--in unison-- "you haven't changed a bit!"
Does time really stand still when it comes to those friends who you played hide-n-seek and release with?
Last night I had to go to a funeral home for a friend's mother. Mari and I were constant companions for many years. But, as time went on and we went on to different colleges and boyfriends and husbands and children--our friendship became more of a running into each other and Christmas card type of friendship. Old friends with different lives....that's what we became.
My friend's mom who passed away was a dear friend of my aunt and uncle--my uncle and my Mari's late father were fraternity brothers and stayed "brothers" throughout life. Because of that, I picked up my aunt and uncle--who are both in their late 80's now-- to also go to the funeral home. As we were driving to the funeral home, my aunt wondered out loud "I wonder what Mari will say when she sees how much weight you lost! I can't wait to see her face when she sees you!" I didn't want to burst my aunt's bubble but I was pretty sure the last time I actually saw Mari--I was really not that heavy. So, Mari had no idea that #1-I was obese and #2--that I lost 100 pounds or that I even needed to. To Mari--I was that girl who she saw quite awhile back--who really wasn't all that heavy. Sure, I may have needed to lose a few pounds--but I was definitely not at my highest weight. But, my aunt seemed excited about the intrigue as we drove to the funeral home so I didn't bother to remind her that I wasn't always obese...a little overweight maybe but not always obese.
As we entered the funeral home--there stood Mari. Looking as trim and exoticly pretty as she always did. Her hair--the same. Her eyes--the same. Her lips--the same. She even moved her lips the exact same way as she always did as she talked. As we approached her--her eyes widened and a huge smile flashed cross her face. Before Mari and I could embrace--my aunt nudged me and whispered "See! She noticed!". I didn't want to disappoint my aunt by telling her that Mari was just showing her gratitude that I had come to the funeral home. From the look on my aunt's face-- I could tell that she was waiting for that big moment when Mari would say something like "you look wonderful" and then my aunt could swoop in and tell her something like "she just lost 100 pounds! doesn't she look great?". When that didn't happen within the first 5 seconds--my aunt leaned in towards Mari and said "doesn't Judi look good?"
"MY GOD YES! She looks exactly the same!" Mari told her.
"And you have not changed one bit!" I said as I took her into my arms to let her know how sorry I was---returning the favor--just as she had held me in sorrow when I was 14 and she was 15. Two motherless daughters holding on to each other as if time or distance or life or weight had never interfered. Two girls who look exactly the same. And, always will.
My aunt was still disappointed as we drove home that Mari didn't notice and she couldn't report my weight loss.
Yes, that served as a pause in the Toni-going-to-college tears here in Judiland.....