What fools we are, she thought, to love something so brief, so fragile, as life. And especially that handful of sweet, little-children years.– Julia Fierro, Cutting Teeth
The mountain lake that we hiked to on Saturday morning
This month, Aidan has chosen Friendship as the topic of our Here Year. The topic is near to my heart and the timing is perfect. I just returned from my annual reunion with my dearest friends from college. It was a marvelous, sunny weekend of laughter (a lot) and tears (a few) that reminded me yet again why these women are so essential to me.
I’ve written a lot about friendship, and I cherish my female friends. As I get older I am more and more convinced of the importance of female friendships to our lives. The women who live nearest to my heart come from a variety of places and times in my life, but this group of college friends are the single largest and most stable locus of identification for me. They are my anchor and the first people I call with news, good or bad. They are the women who hold my stories. They are some of the few people in the world who know both who I am now and who I was then. They were my bridesmaids and are the godmothers of my children, and we have attended graduations, weddings, and funerals together.
These are the friends whose lives have now been beating alongside mine for more than half my life. They are the friends who know the specific part of Middlemarch that I missed because I was skimming a little too aggressively, what the trapezal is, all the lines to Jennifer Lopez’s performance in The Wedding Planner, the best roast chicken recipe, and how to work a 1970s-era one-piece ski suit. The memories run incredibly deep. We know the titles of each others’ theses and what we called our grandparents and why a DTR is important and how we celebrated our 21st birthdays.
For me, this was the best reunion weekend yet. All but one of us (those who were there) is now 40. We are all mothers and wives. We have a great deal in common, most of all the 4 years we spent on the same college campus in the mid 90s. But our lives are also very different. We run the gamut, professionally, personally, and geographically. Somehow, as our flight from those years in New Jersey lengthens, and our paths diverge, we also feel closer than ever. These women define where I came from and help me know where I am. Something about this past weekend was simply magic. Maybe as we hit our 40s we are settling into our skin. Maybe it was the mountain air and spectacularly beautiful weather. Maybe it was the triple cream brie and French Sancerre. Probably it was a combination of all of these things.
I suspect part of it had to do with my – and, I think, everyone’s – increasing ability to be here. For many years I’ve known that attention is love, and this weekend was a reminder of how true that is.
Friendship is made of attention.
We listened to each other and in turn we felt heard (I can only speak for myself, but my strong sense is this feeling was common in the group). I’m always amazed by how swiftly we slip back into comfortable patterns and by how easy it is to be around each other, because so much of our history is known and doesn’t need to be explained. . This weekend was no different. There is no way I can capture this strong, loving, dazzling group of women nor how fortunate and privileged I feel to be in their presence. I simply love them. That is all. And I hope they always know that.
I wrote about this weekend, and these friends, in 2010, 2012, and 2013.
I’m so grateful that Brettne pointed me to the Vogue video of Anna Wintour answering the 73 question challenge. She’s hilarious, and, as Brettne said to me, I totally covet her office. I was also fascinated by how the specific questions come together to provide a compelling portrait of a person. I’ve often written about this, about how small details can tell us a lot. In this case each question reveals a singular facet of a person and the 73 come together into a revealing kaleisdoscope. I thought it would be fun to answer them. I’d love it if you wanted to too! (I’m going to change New York to Boston for my purposes).
1. How long have you been in the area?
I was born here, but we moved around a lot, and I came back for good when I graduated from college in 1996.
2. What’s your favorite season in Boston?
Spring
3. What’s your favorite activity in Boston?
Running along the Charles at sunrise
4. Would you ever leave Boston?
I don’t think so
5. What are three words to describe living in Boston?
Seasonal, bookish, manageable
6. What’s your favorite movie?
Hard to say – not a huge movie person. But first reactions are: Stealing Home, all the Harry Potter movies, Old School.
7. Favorite movie in past five years?
Truthfully I have barely been to the movies in the past 5 years. Maybe Where the Wild Things Are. Though that may have been more than 5 years ago!
8. Favorite Hitchcock film?
I haven’t ever seen one!
9. Favorite TV show that’s currently on?
House of Cards
10. What’s a book you plan on reading?
Frankenstein
11. A book you read in school that positively shaped you?
To the Lighthouse
12. A book you read in school that you never think of?
Vanity Fair
13. On a scale of one to ten how excited are you about life right now?
Nine
14. iPhone or Android?
iPhone
15. Twitter or Instagram?
Close call, but Twitter
16. Vine or Snapchat?
Neither
17. Who should EVERYONE be following right now?
On Instagram, my friend @averdiroach, whose shots of where she lives take my breath away with their beauty. On Twitter, Book Quotes (@ao_BookQuotes) and Mary Oliver Poetry (@MaOlPoetry) for beautiful snippets of prose and poetry.
18. What’s the coolest thing in this room?
The view out of the window
19. What’s your favorite Boston restaurant?
Probably the bar at the Harvest
20. What’s your favorite food?
French fries, chocolate chip cookies, a perfectly ripe peach, brie with fig jam
21. Least favorite food?
Any shellfish
22. What do you love on your pizza?
White pizza with arugula
23. Favorite drink?
Coffee in the morning
24. Favorite dessert?
Gooey chocolate chip cookies
25. Dark chocolate or milk chocolate?
Dark
26. Weirdest thing you’ve ever eaten?
Brain, maybe – as a baby I was looked after by a French woman who fed us very authentic foods
27. What’s the hardest part about being a mom?
Not doing anything well enough
28. What’s your favorite band?
Literally, this stumps me. Pathetic. Cool about music, I’m not.
29. Favorite solo artist?
James Taylor
30. Favorite lyrics?
Waiting for my Real Life to Begin by Colin Hay
31. If your life were a song, what would the title be?
Be Here Now
32. If you could sing a duet with anyone, who would it be?
James Taylor
33. If you could master one instrument, what would it be?
Guitar
34. If you had a tattoo, where would it be?
On the inside of my wrist
35. To be or not to be?
To be
36. What’s Oprah like in person?
I wish I knew
37. What number of question was this?
37
38. Dogs or cats?
Dogs
39. Kittens or puppies?
Puppies
40. Dolphins or koalas?
Koalas
41. Bird-watching or whale-watching?
Bird-watching
42. What’s your spirit animal?
A bird
43. Best gift you’ve ever received?
My engagement ring, from my husband
44. Last gift you gave a friend?
A book
45. A person you want to have coffee with?
Mary Oliver
46. A historical figure you’d love to have coffee with?
Joan of Arc
47. How do you like your coffee?
With milk and sugar
48. Can I play a note on this piano?
Sure
49. What’s your favorite curse word?
Shit
50. What’s your favorite board game?
Sorry
51. What’s your favorite country to visit?
Africa
52. What’s the last country you visited?
Ecuador
53. What country do you wish to visit?
Chile – Patagonia
54. What do you see in this image right here?
?
55. Can you write down your favorite word that starts and ends with the same vowel?
alluvia
56. What’s your favorite color?
Orange
57. Least favorite color?
Don’t have one
58. What color dress did you wear to your prom?
Black
59. Diamonds or pearls?
Diamonds
60. Cheap shampoo or expensive?
Cheap
61. Blow-dry or air-dry?
Blow-dry
62. Heels or flats?
Sneakers
63. Can you give an impersonation of someone?
Not well
64. Can you do the same impersonation with a British accent?
No
65. My friend outside this window would love to ask you a question?
Sure
66. [Holding two different colored dresses] Which should I give my girlfriend?
The one on the right
67. Pilates or yoga?
Yoga
68. Jogging or swimming?
Jogging
69. Best way to decompress?
Read in bed
70. If you had one superpower, what would it be?
Time travel
71. Can you describe an experience you felt most nervous?
Speaking in front of a group (giving a toast or reading at my grandfather’s funeral)
72. What’s the weirdest word in the English language?
I don’t know why, but “ooze” and “unctuous” come to mind – clearly I have onomotaepia on the brain.
73. Last question: Is this the strangest interview you’ve ever had?
No
There are mothers
for everything, and the sea
is a mother too,
whispering and whispering to us
long after we have stopped listening.
I stopped and let myself lean
a moment, against the blue
shoulder of the air. The work
of my heart
is the work of the world’s heart.
There is no other art.
~ Alison Luterman
I’m familiar with Alison Luterman’s wonderful work (highly recommend!) but I didn’t know this poem before. I am thankful that I found it on Claudia’s beautiful blog, First Sip.
On Friday, Grace ran her first cross-country meet. She was nervous, I was not there, and she did well. She did really well. I met her after the meet and we went straight to the airport to pick up her dearest friend from camp, J. J is the daughter of my old and dearest friend, Jess, who I met at the same camp, when we were 12. Grace and J were born 12 weeks apart to the day. Their firm friendship, independent from ours though inextricably woven through it, makes me happier than I can articulate.
While waiting to pick Grace up, I tweeted that I was collecting my daughter from her first cross-country race. Lacy tweeted back, “This makes me teary. The colt legs, the pony tail. Late light on the towpath. Go, Graciegirl, go!” That message sent me immediately and viscerally back into the fall light with my friend, a fellow redhead, walking along the towpath, the autumn light on our head. Then and now collapsed together and I cried, alone in the car.
Grace arrived, I met her coaches, and we headed to the airport. As we walked in, Grace took off running, her cross-country jersey billowing behind her, her ponytail bouncing. She’s nearly as tall as I am now, long and lean, all planes and sharp angles, full of energy and a blooming, hopeful tentativeness that is both familiar and, somehow, sad. I took the picture above and stood, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of me, as I watched her go. Always, they are running away. My own cross-country days, in the woods of New Hampshire, among trees whose leaves flamed and then dropped to the ground, felt animate around me, both yesterday and a lifetime ago. It’s her turn now. And rather than making me sad, it feels right. I am grateful to be here to cheer her on. I can’t wait to go to her first actual meet and to watch her take off, as my mother did so many years ago.
And the seasons, they go round and round …
We got to the gate early. As I watched Grace wait for her friend I found that my eyes were brimming with tears. When my dearest friend’s daughter walked off the airplane towards my own willowy tween, I remembered holding her as a newborn, her tiny self curled on top of my belly which was swollen with Grace. Over and over again, memory confuses and confounds me with its power: how can that moment be so far gone, never to come again, when it also feels sturdy, still here?
I trailed the two of them back to the car, Grace still in her cross-country uniform, J carrying her own bag, their lanky bodies almost exact mirrors of each other, and thought that they are now the age that Jess and I were when we met for the first time. I also remembered the day I first discovered I was pregnant with Grace, February 15, 2002, when the first phone call I made was to Jess. I will never forget that conversation, my whispered, fearful question, and her warm, loving answer. And from that day forward there were these two girls, whose lives I hope will be joined forever by what they shared even before they were born. I imagine them when they are our age, hopefully still as beloved as they are now, and it makes me glad, relieved, breathless with wonder.
It is so much, all of it: my youth, then, her youth, now, running, the leaves turning, friendship, history, all that has happened before and is still here. Time folds like an accordion, then kisses now and spreads apart again, and the past surfaces through the present from time to time, enriching it and reminding me of where I came from. And always there is my startlingly tall daughter, running away, faster than I could ever imagine, her mahogany ponytail bouncing as the sun goes down.
Sometimes this life is so beautiful it is almost unbearable.
I wrote this post last weekend, but this morning it occurs to me that it nicely straddles September’s and October’s Here Year themes, time and friendship.