“No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are thoroughly persuaded of each other’s worth.”

– Robert Southey

We meet so many people during our lifetime.  There are those who pass through briefly on their way from where they’ve been to where they are going, and our time together is brief.  There are those who remain a part of our lives from childhood through adulthood, simply because we live in close proximity to them and share the same communities and activities.  On rare occasions, we meet someone whose connection remains through life changes and miles of distance; and that is the sort of friendship I renewed yesterday with a visit from Heather.

We first met when Heather raised her hand and accepted the dubious honor of being a Brownie leader.  My granddaughter, Ivy, had just begun second grade.  Parents were invited to attend a school assembly program, and Heather took the time to introduce herself and invite me to bring Ivy to her troop meetings.  I had enjoyed Girl Scouts myself, so I decided to drum up a little enthusiasm and get Ivy involved.  Little did I know that this decision would be the beginning of one of those lasting friendships — the kind we treasure in a special sort of way.

When Heather arrived for our planned lunch at my house, my first words were, “Who are you, and what have you done with Heather?”  She was twenty minutes early.  This was a bit disconcerting.  As I had planned the menu, my greatest concern was how I would keep the tacos warm if noon became 1:oo PM.  For years, we had joked about how Heather had her own private time zone — “Heather Time” — that defied location and didn’t fit onto the grid that began with the Prime Meridian.  We considered the advantages — that perhaps she didn’t age as rapidly as the rest of us since her biological clock ticked more slowly; that there might be a benefit to arriving late for one’s own funeral.  Nevertheless, here she was — early and with her daughters arriving close behind with our neighbor, Lisa.  It’s funny how Heather provides the bridge between Lisa and me; and although we live within several miles, we usually don’t see each other unless Heather is in town.

Our girls were in kindergarten when they first met — Hadley, Liz, and Ivy — very different personalities with varied interests, but with enough overlap that they found each other interesting.  As we compared notes, the moms discovered that each of the girls had been a little tentative about seeing the others.  They are now 14 years old, and it had been two years since their last reunion.  What if they no longer had things in common?  What if one of them had become less than cool?  They have not yet learned the truth about friends — that no matter how their interests change or how many new branches they add to their tree of life, underneath it all they are still the same.  All strong personalities, these three had jostled and sometimes collided, but always they had found their way to their shared interests.  Would they still be able to do that now that they are teenagers?  Hadley, a serious student and talented swimmer, made her way to the national finals for History Day this year.  Artistic Liz excelled in academics and also performed the lead role in her school’s production of Beauty and the Beast.  Ivy, the most sporty of the group, lives with a basketball in her hand; and, although she also achieves top grades, she likes to keep academics in perspective.  Liz is highly fashion conscious.  Hadley is practical but feminine in her tastes.  Ivy has not yet decided to step outside of her athletic attire and jeans and risk wearing a dress.

Tacos were served, the moms settled into our traditional game of Super Scrabble, and the girls donned their flip flops and Crocs and took off for a nostalgic walk down the creek.  Creek walking, complete with buckets and nets, was one of their shared passions when they were younger; and by the time they returned, we found ourselves regaled by stories of the crayfish that was caught and released.  ”It was a lobster!” Ivy exclaimed, and all the girls broke into hysterical laughter as they remembered their inside joke and the camaraderie that had accompanied it.  No longer were they awkward and worried about whether they would still know each other.  Out came the Cranium game; and Hadley’s younger sister, Abby, was pressed into service as the fourth player.  Formerly the tag-along younger sibling and now a graceful twelve-year-old, Abby no longer was seen as someone to avoid — she had become a part of their circle.

Maybe this is what makes these three girls so special.  Each is strong and opinionated and will stand her ground.  In years past, they would have been ruthless in their exclusion of the younger girl; and the moms would have had to intervene on Abby’s behalf — either by insisting that the girls let her play or by finding something separate to entertain her.  What shone through yesterday was the other side of the girls’ strength — that they are strong enough and fair-minded enough to take each new experience in the moment it occurs.  Abby was no longer the annoying little kid; and the girls stepped away from their history and welcomed her for being who she is today.  There is hope for this bunch, and it was wonderful to see them — still unchanged at the core of who they are — showing us that they are becoming more with each passing year.

Heather, Lisa, and I spent the afternoon catching up over our game and simply enjoying the feeling we always have — that two years may have gone by, but our conversation resumes as though it had begun only yesterday.  I wonder whether this sort of awareness is beginning to capture the girls’ attention as well.  I think of where we all have been and how far we all have come; and I make a vow that I will do my part to continue these reunions — for us and for our girls.  How can we stop now and risk missing the excitement of next year’s installment?

The afternoon flew by, and we wrapped up our visit with a dinner out at Friendly’s.  How odd that the girls are old enough to sit at their own table and order their own food.  There is no need to manage them; because the things we have taught them through the years of their friendship are now their own.  I pull out my camera and snap a picture; and I wonder what the next one will look like and how each girl will show who she is when another year has gone by.  We part in the parking lot of the restaurant, and the girls who worried that they might have nothing in common are hugging and exchanging their good byes.  ”I love you,” each says to the other, and I think I see a tear glistening in my granddaughter’s eye.

We are sharing with them the legacy of women that has been handed down to us from generations past — the friendships that are not acted out only in the midst of our busy days, but the ones that exist deep in our hearts.  Those are the things we hold close as we renew our conversations and discover again and again that we still hold each other’s love, in spite of the miles that separate our lives.  Next year there will be another walk down the creek — don’t forget your flip flops.  Next year there will be another game of Scrabble.

Oh…and by the way…I won.