Monday, March 01, 2010

Friendship

I met Gail in the 5th grade. She played chess, the only girl -- as far as I knew -- in my school who could play chess. Obviously the gods meant us for each other, or so I thought. I think she was my first major crush. Or at least the one I most remember. Nothing came of it, of course. I was much better at chess than girls at that time ... and while I don't claim to be an expert on women now, I can say I haven't played chess in years.

We stayed friends through high school and even ended up in college together for a brief time. But we were never more than friends. Don't know why, really. Bad timing, strong personalities, etc. Maybe we valued our friendship too much to risk it on a relationship that might end. Maybe we just lacked the courage.

Doesn't matter. We're still friends after all these years. She has remained my steadfast supporter and believes in my writing abilities and me as a person despite all evidence to the contrary. Read her reply to my post "Belief," and you'll understand some of why I think she's so special.

But let me tell you more. Gail makes me laugh. Not a lot of people do that. Gail makes me think. Not a lot of people do that. Gail makes me want to succeed. Almost nobody does that. Gail knows me almost better than anyone and still likes me. Not a lot of people do that -- although, to be fair, I only let a few people get close. Somehow she slipped in behind most of my barriers. Weird, eh?

We mostly talk on the phone these days. I haven't seen her in several years. The last time was when she attended the premiere of our play. Yes, we've written three plays together. We have our most fun when we write together ... and that's also when we come closest to committing murder. Strong personalities, remember?

She's not had the best life. Her marriage went bad, she's raised a son on her own, and she's worked a job -- nursing -- that can beat anyone down with the associated stress and sorrow. She's had to watch people suffer and die. A nurse's life isn't easy. Of course, she's watched them get better, too, and has pride that she's given them the best care she can. She cares about patients in ways that doctors and nurses do on TV and rarely do in real life.

She hasn't got to write as much as I wish she could have. She's got a lot of talent, a sly and intelligent wit, and a charming way with words. She's into politics with a strong independent bent that lead her in logical and sometimes surprising directions. And she has taken her formidable intelligence and wrestled with the big questions of life, like our relationship with God, how to be loving parent, why does Donald Trump wear that dead beaver on his head, and so on.

She still has struggles, of course. Job, life, parenting, being a good daughter to her mother, church ... Everything has its challenges, but I've never known her to despair. She may get knocked down, but she gets right back up. We've seen each other through plenty of troubles that we shared in countless emails and letters -- all of which will be worth some cash if one of us ever gets famous.

We always talk about running away to some island to lounge around on white beaches and sip fruity drinks before going to our beach house to write best sellers. And if there was ever anyone I think could do that and deserve it, it's her.

She's one of the undeserved and unexpected blessings God has given me, and I am profoundly grateful for her. Love you, Gail.

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2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I'm glad you mentioned at least some of my patient's get better. Geez, you were starting to worry me a little.

And, I love you, too.

--g

Anonymous said...

LOL, Gail!

Friends are family you get to choose. :)