We joked about it the entire trip.
"Catherine is the youngster of the group. She's going to drive us there with her young eyes and her quick instincts and keep us from talking about death too much."
"Now friends, we'd better stop talking about such dire things by Provo, or Catherine's never going to want to travel with us again."
"I don't know about you, but I think we ladies have done pretty well not needing to stop every five miles for a rest room."
Meet Mary Ann, Jeanne, and Marilyn. My most excellent friends.
I met them 18 years ago as a first-year teacher and I knew immediately that I wanted to be in their league. Some of the best in the business, these are ladies who shaped thousands of lives through literature and history, and though I wasn't a student in their classrooms, I have been their student in life.
They know my stories and I know theirs. We told them to one another in the hallways and in each others' classrooms after school, we told them at keep-in-touch lunches and in the two book clubs we all attend each month. And this past weekend, we told them on the long drive down to St. George, in the hotel room waiting for the next activity, on the trail leading to the petroglyphs, under the palm trees over breakfast, in the theater waiting for the productions to start, and continuing on and on and on as the seemingly longer ride back home became smaller and smaller with each passing mile.
Each conversation revealing more than we had known before--and that was already a lot.
We talked and we talked and we talked. About our histories, teaching, politics, our families, our upbringings, our wounds, our adventures, and oh how we love to talk about the literature we share.
It's most stimulating stuff, really. And even though they are old enough to be my mother, and each has children as old as I, it's not so much about the differences between us as it is about the similarities. And while they're super concerned about sounding and acting "old" around me all the time, little do they know how much of it I'm absorbing, how much I treasure and respect their experiences in life, how fully I let their words encircle me, allowing their kindnesses towards me to nourish me, giving me strength.
So joke away, ladies, but I could never think of you as old. You are my friends. And just like good literature, our friendship transcends both time and space. You are in a place I have not yet experienced, and I, I am in a space that sheds new light on yours.
We respect one another. We take care of one another. We learn from one another.
There is no age. There is no time. There is no space. We are, quite simply, the most excellent of friends.
Most eloquently put! Good friends are hard to find these days and these ladies sound amazing! I recently "found" your blog Cath and am enjoying peeking into your life! :)
Posted by: Julie Masse | September 23, 2008 at 01:41 AM
I know just what you mean - I have a great friend (who, coincidentally, also happens to be an English teacher) and we laugh, and talk, and gossip and have a great time together...I never think of her as an "old lady", even though she is 98!
p.s. thanks so much for the book - I can't wait to start reading it!
Posted by: Alice | September 23, 2008 at 09:32 AM
Catherine,
WOW!!! You are a good writer. This is really a masterpiece on friendship. Thanks for the compliments--we really "complement" each other.
Marilyn
Posted by: Marilyn Moore | September 23, 2008 at 12:12 PM
oh, tear.
That is so well said and what a treasure trove of friends you have.
Exceptional, you and them.
B-
Posted by: Becky Olsen | September 23, 2008 at 08:15 PM
It sounds like you had a fabulous trip. Thanks for sharing!
Posted by: Brandy J. | September 23, 2008 at 10:22 PM