….to grow an old friend.
And I’m not calling my friend, Bev, old – by any means. In fact, she’s several years younger than me. But she is an “old” friend, meaning we’ve been friends for a long time.
I can’t imagine how many hours each of us has cradled a telephone receiver on a shoulder, talking while washing dishes, cooking, doing laundry, housecleaning. Years ago, we sunbathed while our children were taking afternoon naps, went shopping too many times to count, and supported each other at doctor’s appointments.
As our children got older, we sort of drifted apart and didn’t see each other as often. Then, a few years ago, we rediscovered our friendship. Since then, we’ve added surviving her daughter’s wedding and vacationing together to our list.
But one of the most interesting facts about our friendship is this: her birthday is the day before mine. I know, that’s interesting enough, but it gets better. Her son was born the day before my son’s third birthday. And all of us were born in June.
Since Bev’s husband was working late last night, Motor Man took us out to dinner to celebrate our birthday(s). Out of about six pictures he took, this is the only one where one of us didn’t blink. And I think Bev was oh-so-close.
Happy Birthday, Bev, old buddy, old pal. Give me a call.