Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Froma . . .

Strange, we hadn't spoken in years but after just a few minutes on the phone, it felt like we were curled up on the couch and talking as if the years had never slipped in between us. She was my childhood right-next-door friend, the one that was a part of so many of my growing-up discoveries. Our perspectives were different but the same . . . she being the Jewish girl, me being the Christian. We never knew we were different back then but society did in those days.

One of my fondest memories is of the two us sneaking in to sit in her formal living room - sitting on the forbidden furniture while her mother was busy elsewhere and not there to scold us away. Anne, the mother who to a child's eyes, had a zillion bottles of nail polish lined up in rows in the kitchen pantry. So different from my mother. Furniture in my home was meant to be sat on ... and fingernails were rarely painted red except for very special occasions.

Sometimes we get lucky - sometimes when the phone rings, happiness and memories come drifting back into your heart through the telephone lines and the years drift away. It's nice to have my childhood friend back - I missed her.

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