In the midst of my current state of affairs, I am gently reminded that I have friends... from all places in my past and present... who love me. They call. Persistently, even. Until I answer. Or they just show up and demand a lunch date. Immediately. Without excuse.
Enjoy the following.
***************************************************************
Many, many eons ago, when I was busy being a tenth grader at East Paulding High School, a new kid showed up at my lunch table. A tall, dark and incredibly mysterious stranger who played guitar, wore black clothes, and had a fabulous smile. How he arrived at my lunch table, I have no idea. But he did.
And when you show up at someone's lunch table, you are enveloped. Like it or not.
So, we lunched.
Our table was a "collection" of social groups. Band. Soccer. Football. Cheerleaders. Tall Dark and Handsome Stranger didn't really fit in anywhere. But people liked him. And so did I.
So, we dated.
And so began a beautiful and amazing friendship. One that taught me about rock n' roll, fast cars (a red Chevelle to be specific) and proms. We danced at the prom. He put his jacket around my shoulders. We went on Spring Break together. I wore his clothes. I still have his sweatshirt. Seriously. We skipped - or um, ALMOST skipped school together. He punched a guy in the face who talked badly about me. Right on. That's rock and roll, man.
And of course, like every good high school relationship, I broke his heart into about a million pieces. If you asked him about me right now, that's what he'd tell you.
"Rachael? Yep. That girl broke my heart."
It is these relationships however - that make the most lasting friendships. That years later, when you somehow find each other through the power of the internet - you reconnect like high school was yesterday. Only at thirty, our friendship has taken a front seat - as things tend to take you know, twelve or so years to simmer down.
**********************************************************************
Several months ago, I arrived home and found a black motorcycle in my parent's driveway. And even though I had not seen him since his high school graduation, I knew EXACTLY who was visiting. He'd been there for at least an hour, and had even my dad at the kitchen table. That's sayin' something.
And you wanna know what he said to me? RIGHT in front of my kid? "You're just a beautiful as the last time I saw you." And Jordin? She turned a cartwheel.
Whoa there now. Justin's married to a good girl named Jamie. And trying, like everyone, to make things work. But still. It was the compliment that stuck. Good compliments always do. Stick. Or, make you turn cartwheels.
***********************************************************************
As I walked into the hospital last week, sad and wanting my baby to come home, I got a text message. From Justin. (note: I taught the boy how to text message) It read :
"Ayden Thomas is here! 6 pounds 5 ounces!"
There is just something about sharing your children with your long-time friends. So of course, I ran RIGHT up to their hospital room, and fawned over sweet baby Ayden. Who, by the way, was a pro-football player compared to little Landon. He has his father's chin and his mama's eyes. Precious.
And it made my day. Because he shared Ayden with me. The girl who broke his heart and stole his clothes.
Ayden and Landon are about to make the second generation of Thackston - Hulsey's in our small town. Thankfully, this time, one of them isn't a girl. It SHOULD make for a lot less trouble. But probably will amount to the same bit of school skipping. Not that we ever did that. Never. Not once.
*********************************************************************
So now we are all home and back to the business of being parents and families ... and Justin asks to take me to lunch about two times a week. And when I turn him down he tells me he loves me anyway. And that? That is worth three million lunches. And at least one good rock n' roll punch in the face.
Swear to God. I actually have these conversations. 