Last month I had dinner with my friend Carol. (Blog reference: supremely practical nurse friend who knew enough to recommend I see the doctor when I first had MS symptoms.) I last saw Carol in ... 2010, I think. We were friends in high school, then kept up when she went away to college, she was maid of honor at my wedding, she moved to Dallas, and we still kept up. Then she came back to Saint Louis and moved three miles from me, and we started to lose touch. Then she moved fifteen miles away, and now we talk every four years or so. It's a shame. I love Carol.
All I would have to do is pick up the phone and call, but as I told her at dinner, "I always stop, because since you had cancer I think Dave's going to pick up and tell me you died months ago."
"I always think you're going to be in a wheelchair."
I'm invited to her daughter's wedding shower Sunday. I have a wheelchair. And I have a sick sense of humor. I don't think I could sell it, though. I'll have to wait about ten years, then I could pull off a fabulous practical joke.
And now, my friend from twenty years ago, Melanie, has moved back to Missouri and is in driving distance. (Blog reference: Melanie the actress/teacher who learns German and gets grants to follow her dreams.) The last time I spoke to Melanie was ... I don't even know. Twelve years ago? And again, it was a dinner after I hadn't seen her for four years. Since then I visited her at Northwestern, but recently I've just kept up with her through email newsletters and Facebook. In typical Melanie fashion she oriented the earth's axis to her goals: she took a job at Cornell and somehow visited Africa through that.
I think the job at Cornell required a cryptic Facebook account, because she never posted anything personal. She had a child twelve years ago, and of course my fear is that the child will be dead, or the marriage to the German will have ended.
The only downside here is that I am a full ninety pounds fatter than the last time she saw me. I wonder if she thinks I'll be in a wheelchair. I could totally sell the wheelchair joke with Melanie.
I feel that way sometimes, that except for my very closet friends it's hard to stay in touch. I'll bet your friends would love to hear from you and see you. I'd love to visit you myself. Maybe some day!
Posted by: Hattie | July 07, 2014 at 03:58 PM
I plan on seeing you next January. I hope neither of us is in a wheelchair.
Posted by: Tami | July 10, 2014 at 08:30 AM
Old friends for dinner always makes me think of Hannibal Lecter. Fsssssttt.
Posted by: Zayrina | July 13, 2014 at 07:45 PM
Hattie - I should learn from my father and keep in touch with friends. When he went in to hospice he made himself call all his old friends and announce that he'd be dying in a few weeks; thought they'd like to know. Then again, he really enjoyed the awkward silence after that, so maybe it would be fun.
Tami - I don't anticipate it. I'll still be on the cruise even if I am hit hard in Christmas.
Zayrina - ahh, yes, having an old friend for dinner. I forgot about that.
Posted by: TheQueen | July 13, 2014 at 08:17 PM