I belong to a club. It’s not a country club, per se, although it is in the country. No, it’s a girls club that started as a book club, but then after a year or so, we kind of never got around to reading many books.
In our defense, one of the early books had a dog die in it and that is a sort of treason that will not stand. We then started to disagree about the scope and seriousness of future books. So we turned, instead, to cake.
For a while, our now adult children (some of whom are friends with each other so there is collusion) began to refer to us as “cake club.” It was fitting even if it wasn’t as impressively cerebral as book club.
It’s funny as I age my friend groups have grown. I’ve been friends with my bestie forever, since we were 9 years old — love ya girl!
Over the next few decades, I have been blessed, indeed, to add more. Some through work. Some through our children. To be fair, I even have some if not most of my work due to our children.
As time has gone on, I’ve matured into someone I think is a pretty decent friend if I do say so myself. I am never going to be great about remembering your birthday unless I did, in fact, give birth to you myself. THOSE I remember. Nonetheless, I try really hard to be present and caring when it really matters. Social media helps me keep track of those birthdays too.
Change
The ways of friendship sure did change over the decades. In my 20s, I loved to go clubbing. It’s how I met Mr. Wonderful. Just a guy and a girl in a dance club. The rest is history. Now, my idea of a big night out is that one of my club pals picks me up at the house around 6:15 p.m., we have a marvelous time bonding and catching up, and we are all home and snug in our beds by 9 p.m. No lie. I used to not START my evening until 10 p.m. Now I’m sound asleep by that wee hour.
Our post-girls-night texts read like “Home safe! Already in bed! Here’s the link to that air fryer I was telling you about. Can I get your chicken salad recipe?” Toss in a suggestion for a new “true crime” podcast, and I’m a happy gal. Bonus points if they send recommendations for a good sleep aid.
Between monthly gatherings, our correspondence consists mainly of tagging each other in social media posts and sending memes back and forth via text. It’s glorious. In person, when we aren’t discussing careers, children (now grown but forever our babies) and partnerships (business and personal), we share pretty much everything else.
“I’ve missed you. It’s been too long. I love your new hair color. Remember how young we used to be? Were we ever that young really? How are your parents? I’m sorry to hear about your mom. How is that thing at work? Hey, let’s build a commune. I’ll bring the goats! Let’s not wait so long next time.”
I think it must be a rite of passage for a generation raised on “Golden Girls” to imagine creating an extended community with family and friends. If you’re willing to start a commune together, you know you have your friends, home and some love. If we aren’t thinking about starting a commune, we can aim smaller and start a podcast. Then, one of our group went ahead and did just that, so now we can cross that off the bucket list.
Deep, lasting friendships are where we often plant the roots we weren’t born to. Our conversations are sometimes, literally, a piece of cake. Other times they are deeper and more meaningful. In either case, from one extreme to another, we all need friends to be there and support one another.
What good friendships need is commitment, caring and casual banter. Starting when I was just a teen, I would sit back and listen to the conversations around me. I would just soak up the banter between us. I want to always remember the fun, the memories and the wit.
