Even Now

In the pages of everybody’s memory book,

there’s bound to be

a little circle of people

(call them friends if you like,

though they didn’t always act like it)

that knew your

coming of age.

---

They’re the girls you did VBS with,

comparing sandals and sun tans

out of the sides of your eyes.

They’re the girls you sang with

and sleepovered with

and swam and dreamed and ate

an Entire Candy Pizza with,

The girls who rubbed your rough spots,

listened to your dreams

coaxed you into skipping to

silly rhymes

about boys and houses and

the delightfully distant future.

If you’re like me,

they’re the girls you gossiped with

and about

(cruel, no doubt),

but, perhaps, also part of becoming–

forming opinions, beliefs, personalities.

---

For us,

the years that followed brought chances to

shoot pucks together

wear the hideous teal chorus dresses together

go to MBS all the same winter

and transition

from tag-alongs to drivers

from students to wage-earners

from those looking up

to those looked up to.

Zinnias symbolize old friends we miss, an accidentally apt choice for my mother’s garden in 2020.

They’re the ones who taught me

four people raised

in exactly the same church

at exactly the same time

can be distinctly and altogether different.

---

We’re talking

plaid and pastels

ruffles and sage green here,

because

these things matter!

---

Hopefully, like me,

every now and then,

you gather that circle of women

round a table of food,

and you talk,

swapping stories,

entertaining babies,

eating all the potluck charcuterie

(and chocolate-covered coffee beans).

I look around,

startled by the seismic shift

symbolized in this–

not a one of the four of us

still wears the veil style of our youth,

not a one attends

the church that gave us

our default friendship

and no two of us

do church together anymore.

---

College, marriage, shifting priorities,

the call of God

have all taken us in different directions.

At times, the fault lines

have felt too large to cross;

yet from these places,

we come

and find

we’ve a lot more in common

than we ever knew.

We love Jesus.

We love our people.

We enjoy leisurely afternoons with iced coffee

and knowing where to find the best deal on summer sausage.

We care more about enjoying our moments

than driving the new vehicle

or serving all the food groups to Sunday company.

You might just find

the same sort of lace vest

in all of our closets,

because these things matter,

even now.