My Friend

We decided yesterday that we might have first become acquainted during a puppetry class at the local art museum, when we were 10-ish and 11-ish. A couple of years later we participated in a theatre workshop--it was as young stage-struck exhibitionistic performers that we bonded forever. At our grammar school I was a year ahead of her, being a year older. When I left for a private day school, she followed a year after. In high school we were the best of friends. I dropped out to start college a year early. She showed up at the same college as a freshman when I was a junior. The next year she transferred out. She was the first to marry, when I was in grad school. She attended our wedding.

Lots of years went by. We lived in different parts of the country and didn't see each other much.

But nowadays when we get together, it's like we're 13 years old again and no time has passed at all.

She arrived on Tuesday, the hottest day of the year (99 degrees at the Manchester airport that day.) Ruth was overjoyed to see her again and Jewel was happy to make her acquaintance. It was an instant connection.

Yesterday we came here to the cottage. No men, no dogs, no cares. Just us. And plenty of our favourite foods. And the trusty fudge recipe we used duing our sleepovers way back when we were chocolate-crazy teens.

So here we are. Enjoying this view.



And these clouds.



And this fish.



(I throw worms to him from the dock and he gobbles them up!)

We roused ourselves in the late afternoon and drove up to the town that claims to be--with justification and documentation--The Oldest Summer Resort in America.



We had dinner at a Mexican restaurant with a fantastic menu. We had guacamole as a starter. It was made tableside, right before our very eyes.



While in town, she bought a pink t-shirt that says "Relax" on it. I don't think she needed the instructions!

I bought a t-shirt, too. And birthday present for the Chap.

We're now waiting for the big white boat to sail back up the Bay on its usual Thursday morning run. It's quite breezy today, not a cloud in the sky. Sunny. Only 62 degrees.

I've got to head to the city for a meeting later this afternoon. Can't bear to pull myself away. But I don't feel guilty leaving her here on her own. I mean--she's got the lake. The view. The fish. And a t-shirt that tells her exactly what's she's supposed to be doing here, in case she forgets.

I don't think she will.