Lucky Girl

I can see it still... the linoleum floors, the "soothing" green tile in the bathroom, the carpet mats for circle time.  I remember walking into Kindergarten, in my blue pinafore appliqued with a red hot air balloon, and feeling enveloped, embraced.  There was not an enemy in my class.  Instantly, I had sixteen friends.  Very little changed over the next 12 years.  Our friends were readily available, pre-chosen.  It is finding your friends along the rest of the way that is challenging.

Saturday, about 40 people descended upon my house.  The ladies, dressed for Derby, looked like flowers with their nodding bonnets.  The gentlemen were well appointed.  We looked quite the civilized bunch, clutching our silver cups.  As the night passed, the decorum wore off and the party thinned out.  The music was turned up.  After I escorted the last two guests to the door, I reflected on all my friends and how they became to be so.

My parents and stepmother were in attendance.  You cannot choose your family, but you can choose your how you relate with family members.  I do not forget my place; I am a child and will always be so to my parents.  However, now that I am an adult with a family of my own, I relate differently to my them.  It is an extraordinary thing to share a drink with your mother, laughing over a childhood past.

Having moved from my hometown a long time ago, there were no childhood friends in the group and my two college girlfriends couldn't make it this year.  My oldest, and dearest friend, Kristen and her wonderful husband Bruno were there.  Kristen and I worked together back in 1997.  I danced at their wedding.

My children attend a different school than do my neighbors children.  I have met some lovely people through St. Thomas More and was so pleased that they chose to attend Derby this year.

Of course, the largest, and most rowdy contingency, was from Barcroft.  Most of these people I have known for 7 years, some only for 3.  They are equally loved and respected.  I know everyone believes that their friends are special but I truly think there is something unique here in Barcroft.  We can parent one another's children.  We can divulge life changing secrets.  If a weekend passes and I don't see my Barcroft pals, I really miss them.  We babysit for each other and share clothes.  We have even traveled together.  It is a diverse group, yet cohesive.

We are losing a family this summer.  Amy, the newest member of the Barcroft clan, and her husband Larry must pack their family up and move  to San Diego.  I have survived this before, but it isn't fun.  I know that Wendy, Amy's closest friend, will feel the loss the most.  I remember, too well, the pain I felt when both Lori and Susan left Barcroft.  Of course, I am still friends with them and always will be but I miss sharing our daily experiences.

I looked about the room, at the well dressed crowd bobbing and weaving to the much too loud music and marveled at how all of this came to be.  The confidantes and gym partners, the book groups and sewing classes, the beach trips and Happy Hours, 4th of July and of course, Derby.  I thought about the stages we have all gone through together... when Kristen and I were just dating Tim and Bruno, when they came to visit us in Austin, starting playgroup with Lori and Susan and how it expanded; I thought of when Nestor used to come to playgroup with his Washington Post - too shy to interact with all the women?- and how he is my Go To man.  I pondered how all of our spouses melded right in.  I was cheered to see Michele and Joe Zummo, new friends from STM, staying late night with all the raging Barcrofters.

After I had locked the door, blown out candles and collected half empty glasses, I felt full, satiated in the knowledge that I have chosen well.