Nice weekend. Auntie Sharon came to visit from Georgia to attend her high school reunion and her mother's 85th birthday party. Auntie Sharon and I have been friends for almost forty years, having married brothers the same year, bearing baby girls the same year, getting divorced the same year, and then living together. I am Auntie Ellen to her daughter, she is Auntie Sharon to mine, and our daughters are like sisters. She is the one person in the world who knows me best, having been with me during my failures and successes, being my closest confidant for so many years. I think we both know that the other will not judge or criticize and that we will love and care about each other no matter what happens. And she moved to Georgia a few years ago and I miss her very much.
She invited me to join her at this weekend's events, the pre-reunion barbeque and the reunion both, maybe to be able to spend more time together or maybe because she feels more comfortable with me around. I enjoyed meeting her school friends, many of whom went all the way from Catholic grammar through high school together. It was a happy group of people, joyful at seeing each other, and it was a pleasure for me to be a part of it. I went to public schools and didn't have much of a good time, so I didn't attend my reunions. I remember graduating from high school thinking that I was the only one so miserable and then I read a book I think was called "Class of '67" which told the story of the popular kids, the cheerleaders and football players at a posh school who felt just like I did, kinda lost and isolated. So it was fun to relive high school with these people who clearly had memories they cherished and enjoyed reconnecting with old friends.
Surprisingly, there were a few people at the reunion who recognized me from my work. One man saw me and hugged me immediately, saying that he appreciated how I helped his wife through a major spine surgery many years ago. One lady, a friend of Sharon's mom from church, realized that I worked for the doctor who operated on her recently deceased mother ten years ago and then we both teared up, her for the memory of her mom talking about her love for me - and me remembering how sweet her mother was and how fond I had been of her. She and I talked like we've known each other for years and I hope I've made a new friend. My job is often stressful and overwhelming and difficult, but hearing how these people benefited from our care helps me realize that it's a blessing to be able to be part of helping people get well.
Then the party today for Sharon's mom was full of very old friends and old and new family members. The day before the party, I took the birthday girl shopping for new shoes to match her red party dress and I teared up, right in the middle of the shoe warehouse, when I realized that I had never been shopping like this with my own mom.
Sharon's family has always accepted me and my daughter as one of their own, welcoming us to family events like we were really related and I've always appreciated their kindness, especially during the many years when my own family excluded me. They're a loud and vocal Italian family who clearly adore each other, and it's always fun for me to join their parties. There were a few people with more years than Sharon's mom and a brand new baby, and everyone seemed to have a good time.
So what's the moral to this story? Family is where you find it, good memories are priceless and better when shared, and old friends may move away but their love transcends the miles.
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