Lovely Rita

Willowtree says, “Tell us about your best friend. Particularly things like: where you first met, how long you’ve been friends and why you think you are best friends.”

Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness blow the rest away. ~Dinah Craik

That safe place for me would be my friend Rita. We have been friends for what seems like a lifetime, but has really only been about twelve years. The first time I saw her, she had on a pink satin jacket that zipped up the front. Isn’t it funny that I remember that? She had taken over for the media specialist in the school where I worked. I liked her right away. She was great with the kids. I really wanted her to stay on, but instead she moved to the administrative office. We chatted briefly on the phone after that, until I moved to the administrative office also. That’s when we really became friends.

She has seen me through some rough times and some good ones too. Between the two of us there has been a divorce, a flood, a change of residence, three graduations from high school, two from college, some health scares, four weddings, too many funerals, and an unbelievable number of stupid things our kids did and somehow managed to come out relatively unscathed. We clung to each other during some really horrendous years at work. We share music. We share lunch. She is an awesome cook. A great wife and mother. And an awesome friend.

Most of all, we can talk. We talk about work. We talk about our fears and joys. We talk about what is right, what is wrong and how it should be. According to us. We talk about our loves and those that love us. We talk about what hurts our heart and what makes us smile. We talk about gray hairs and sore feet. We talk about how it was back in the day. We talk about how it is now. We talk about politics, religion, war and peace. I can tell her anything. And I usually do. And she loves me just the same. It just doesn’t get any better than that.

*Note: In every single picture I have of Rita, she is on the move; dancing at her son’s wedding, at my daughter’s shower. . . and we are not together in any one of them. Probably because I am always on the other side of the lens. We will remedy that today.