Besties

 

This morning I had breakfast with two of my besties. We go back to what I lovingly refer to as the “Sausalito Days” when we were all adorable and skinny and slightly crazy.  We had lots of boyfriends or would pass the same ones around and around- it was a small town, after all. That no guy ever came between us is a small miracle and a testament to our bond and long lasting friendship.

We have taken to meeting at IHOP for breakfast this past year. Early Saturday or Sunday mornings (before the church crowd gets there on Sunday).  We used to eat at more trendy places- but as we get older and money seemingly tighter- and time harder to come by- this is where we have landed. I look around, see other sixty somethings- and think how did we ever get here?

Patti is married now, Liz and I, still single. I was in my early twenties when I met both of them in the early to mid 70’s. Of course I can’t be date specific because that was after all very heavy drinking and everything else days.  

As we chatted this morning, we realized we are indeed getting old. We are all dragging our butts after a workweek and for the most part would like nothing more than to curl up with a good book on our days off.  Patti stays busy- but pays the price by having bronchitis six times a year. Liz – a polio survivor who has never let her pain and polio complications stop her from anything- has slowed down considerably. I have babied myself for years. I don’t overbook, I rest up on weekends and still just recently became sick and lost time at work for the first time in I can’t remember how long.

We are all very different- with a few strands of commonality. Patti is the nurturer. She has the patience of Job and is the caretaker of the world. Sometimes I lose patience - on her behalf, because I’m sure she never will. She puts up with my rants of course, because she is probably the most patient with me. Patti will be the one to visit everyone in the old folk’s home- even though no one will know who she is anymore. She will talk to the patient like there is someone home upstairs- even when the lights are long out.  That is who she is.

Liz is all heart, strength and intelligence – sometimes short on patience when she hears people complain about every day ass aches-like they are dying, when she has walked around with a whole body ache without complaint for most of her sixty plus years. She still thinks and talks faster than I can hear or comprehend- and her wit is still as sharp as thirty years ago. Her body betrays her- but she perseveres.

Sometimes I think- I am a little bit of both of them. They both participated in taking care of me- raising me during the craziest years. I probably owe them both my life- for shelter and sustenance when I needed it most.

I’m not as caring or patient as Patti- but I love my family and my friends and try to make a difference when I can. And I still make a few people laugh- those that get my deadpan humor and gallows wit anyway.

We are all survivors. We have all survived the loss of family and loved ones over the years. We have survived our own illnesses, broken hearts and occasional loneliness. Today when we spoke Liz reminded us to be grateful for what we have. She is right. We still have our health, though not perfect; we are not bed ridden or dead. We still have our brains, our memories intact if somewhat scattered some days due to stress or busy lives but not dementia. Not dementia or Alzheimer’s.

We traded Christmas gifts, which we said we were not going to do this year. None of us has money, but it has been our tradition for a long time now.  As we were getting our coats on and bundled up to go out in the cold, it occurred to me how fortunate I have been to have the friends I have. How accepting they have been of my faults- my quick temper and unruly mouth.

Last month Renee,  my oldest bestie  (years known, not age) came to my rescue (and called me a stubborn ass I think) but I know I might have ended up in the hospital had she not come to take care of me and make me go to the doctor. She is right of course, I am a stubborn ass. Renee and I meet at IHOP  whenever we can too.

Liz said today our big mistake in life was not buying an IHOP franchise.  Now I can tell you of all my mistakes- if Liz thinks that is my big one- I’m good with that.

I started out today lying in bed playing a movie on the back of my eyelids as I do on Saturdays and Sundays when I can be awake and asleep at the same time. Sometimes the movie is good and sometimes it’s bad. If it’s very bad I get up. This morning was just an old movie that starred my family members no longer with us.  December is my eh… month. Johnny died, mom died, and the month just carries a lot of baggage for me in addition to being dark and dreary.  I told myself this morning as my movie was playing on the back of my eyelids; I was going to overcome the blues this December. I am going to walk my dogs-even in the rain, and I am going to take care of myself and be my usual happy self.  Having friends like mine- make it all so much easier.

I’m not blue at all this evening. I feel like December will be good and January even better. I guess sometimes we just need to remember the good stuff and put the rest away.

** One more thing to be happy about. Two of my “newer besties” (less than a decade) sons are home SAFE from Afghanistan. That is something to be happy about this December too.

On a facebook quiz, the other day one of the questions was “Cup 1/2 empty or 1/2 full?” and my reply was fuck the cup. I would like to amend that just for today- cup 100% full.