Wednesday's Story: Friends for Life

Every week I look forward to reading Dee Ready's blog memoir, coming home to myself. Dee is a gifted writer so I was not surprised when after reading a few posts about her childhood in the 1940s, I began to think back to that time in my own life. Right before falling asleep at night, I saw myself dressed in a crisp cotton dress with little puff sleeves, bouncing two tennis balls against the outside walls of our house. I had on sandals with white socks, big feet for my age, tall and scrawny, not yet aware that this would be a problem at first, but a benefit later in life. After the scrawny wore off. 

I searched for pictures of the dress I half-way dreamed about and found this: 

My friend Barbro and I outside her house. I remember the first time I met her. She lived on a lovely street where most houses were old, made of wood, and surrounded by pretty gardens. A forested hill with huge granite boulders and ancient trees separated her street from mine. It wasn't far and you could walk around on a road at the foot of the hill. 

On Barbro's side, there grew a tree with a branch just the right height for me to grab. I could hang from this branch and play at gymnastics. I could swing my legs over the branch and hang upside down with my knees bent around it or I could pull myself up and sit on it. I was only six, but the tree was tempting and I would often wander over there and play. I was a solitary creature even then and enjoyed playing by myself. 

I met Barbro for the first time by this tree. We became really good friends right away and her mom was my best grownup friend for the rest of her life. Barbro and I started first grade together and spent the first four years of school in the same class. Then our lives took different turns, we went to different schools, she married early and had two daughters, and I left Sweden. 

Our friendship remains strong and I always see Barbro and her daughters when I go back to Stockholm. When we see each other, all the years, the distances and our very different life experiences are not important. We connect just like we did when we were six. 

Barbro just had her 72nd birthday and I emailed her the picture of the two of us in our little cotton dresses. Being friends for 66 years is remarkable; to sustain a friendship over a distance of thousands of miles all these years is a wonderful gift. 

I know Dee will enjoy knowing that her writing evoked memories of a crisp cotton dress, white socks and sandals ~~ leading to a picture found, and later mailed to an old friend.