Following on from my last Blog about...stuff. You know - relativity and doing small things with great love, and stuff. I want to tell you about a visit to my friend Katrina. Katrina & I have been friends since we were kids. 37 years of friendship. That's nice. We met when I was 9 and Kat was 8. We grew up together, know each other's history, family, friends. Lovely.
Before you think I've gone all The Waltons on you, I must point out that we haven't been the most attentive of friends over the last 2 decades. You know how it goes - we live only 40 miles apart but are lucky to organise a meeting once a year. But no matter, we pick up as we left off, with all the accumulated history forming an indestructible link between us, despite our lack of contact.
The last time I saw Kat she was planning some huge changes in her personal life. We discussed it, I gave her my encouragement, and left her to it. Nearly a year later I sent her a "how are you?" text and we arranged to meet. "Come and stay." said Kat. "That way we can catch up properly." "I have a buying appointment in London. I'll come up the night before." said I. And so our date was set.
Kat has a beautiful daughter Umi. If I were visiting two such special women then gifts were required. What to take for such an occasion? What could I offer that would express my care at this difficult time? I know - jewellery to adorn, exotic candles to scent, silk & jewels to please the eye, The King & I to bring back memories of childhood, gin & tonic to relax & celebrate, Amaretti biscuit papers to light, iced buns for breakfast. A Care Parcel, my mum used to call it. Gifts given with love and thought that would express emotions that my words could not. There was something beautiful & profound in sharing Kat & my traditions with her daughter. The thought that our history was influencing a new generation made my heart swell.
And in return I was welcomed like a long lost friend. Not lost - just laid to one side temporarily. Beautiful, affectionate Umi greeted me with hugs & smiles, just as happy as her mum to pick up where we left off. Gin was drunk, presents were appreciated and cottage pie was prepared, as we settled down to share the year that had just been. In the warmth of Kat's beautiful home we talked - of partners & lovers, careers & family, dreams & regrets.
I'm happy to say that the regrets were few. What's this? Have the young girls we once were finally grown up? I hope not. Older and wiser and more experienced? Yes. Grown up? No. Crying with laughter over her brother's swimming trunks & pronouncing her love of peas, Kat is still the scatty, quirky, creative spirit she always was. And I am still playing about with fashion.
As if dusted with a touch of Hollywood magic, Kat announced the arrival of her sister Fiona - staying that week on business. When she finally appeared it was like being transported in a time capsule. Rewind 30 years and listen as the two sisters dissect parents and attempt one upmanship - Fiona winning as usual. As Kat's older sister & I discussed old friends & past history, Kat and Umi planned the next school day & watched Friends.
I had envisaged an evening of deep conversation into the wee small hours - dissecting failed relationships - and instead I got old times & domestic bliss - perfect. Perhaps I hadn't fulfilled my duties as a friend? Perhaps I should be questioning & pronouncing? But Kat had shown me, in a few words & expressions, that she was coping just fine with this latest situation. Just as she's always coped - with love & honesty & humour & understanding. There was nothing to add.
And as we stood in her kitchen late that night I told her how proud I was of her and gave her a hug. So many words I'd imagined saying, and none were necessary. 37 years of friendship & laughter & love - no need for words.
Amen,
Laura
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