I met a new friend recently. It’s odd because that is not something I do very often. Her voice was the first thing I noticed, it drew me in to talking to her more.  It was happy, like someone who feels joy and shares it through the tones in her voice and words she chooses. She knew of me and She was honest about it, not the kind of brutal honest that you get with some people who have no edit button.  She was the kind of honest that she didn’t have to tell you that she was telling you the truth, you could feel it. I gave her a chance and I am glad I did.

As a woman my first instincts are usually not to like women much.  I tend to get a little standoffish and keep my distance.  I’ve had way too many so-called “friendly” chats with women who start off sweet and leave you looking for medical help or at least feeling like an idiot for listening. But she wasn’t like that, at least not to me. She told me a little about her life, asked questions about mine, and made me laugh.

I wanted to talk to her.  Even though my reason for calling where she works had nothing at all to do with her, I found myself so intrigued by her and her excitement that we talked for almost an hour.  I can see why he likes her.

She knew my name, knew parts of my story.  She asked good questions and listened to the answers as if I were the most curious person.  I am not very interesting. But she didn’t seem to notice that.

We met for dinner a couple of weeks later. I knew her the instant I saw her. Her kindness was striking and she was perhaps one of the more beautiful women I have ever met. I envy her tallness and the way people notice her.   I loved listening to her stories and I wanted more.  She is a storyteller like he is, they must talk all night. 

Dinner was unforgettable.  The food was decent, but the experience of sitting and listening to this dynamic couple talk about how they met, how they fell in love, and now how they have this incredible little baby, all of it was worth the oddness of our meeting.

I love her eyes, not just for the color… like the color of stormy clouds about to burst with rain. It’s where they keep looking that makes me smile.  She’s always got her eyes on her boys, her husband and son. But still she looks at you when you speak and she listened so intently.  I could see us spending more time together if we didn’t live so far apart.  I would want to invite her to come sit in a quiet café and sip coffee as we talked.  I have a thousand questions for her, yet I doubt I’ll get to ask most of them.

I’m sure she didn’t want to like me, even though she said she did.  I mean really, considering my reason for calling.  But it never showed, in fact she was very good at making sure I didn’t feel at all like I shouldn’t have called. He must love that, she is very good with people.

When we met the second time I wondered if being in her space once more so soon bothered her. I worried I might scare her away and she wouldn’t want to be my friend. Maybe I should just keep my distance so she didn’t feel crowded.   I wanted to see her life, know more about her.  But maybe it was just too much all at once.  If she was upset, it didn’t really show. She let me pour through her photos and told me the stories that went along with them. She let her husband show off all of his toys and memories.

He is so proud of her, it can’t be missed. He loves the way she moves. His eyes follow her when she walks away. He wants us to be friends, her and me.  I want it too.   He wants to tell me all of his stories about how great she is and how his life is so much better because of her.  I want to hear them.  Does that make me crazy?

She doesn’t know it, but I love the way they are together. His life is so much better for her being in it. I love the way he wants to show her off and make me understand how happy he is. I can see it and it is the most beautiful thing. I don’t want to get too close to them; I don’t want to put any darkness into their lives.

We became friends on Facebook, allowing a little viewing window to each other’s lives, access to photos and friends. I loved that she did that. None of the others would have been so free with sharing like that.  She’s different that his others.  I like that.

We’ve texted a couple of times, exchanged quick messages. I don’t want to rush.

I couldn’t have chosen a better match for him, even as well as we know each other. Even though she says she knew she wasn’t his type, she was exactly who he needed.  He knows that. I know that.  I can see why he loves her.

I’ve wanted to know her for a very long time, the wife of my high school boyfriend.  I’ve wanted just to call her up and talk to her, but well… I was a little afraid to do so. He and I have always been friends, better friends after a decade passed since we broke up for the last time. We knew a long time ago we weren’t right for each other, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t be friends and good ones. He was so happy for me when I told him I had found someone who made me so happy.  He cheered for me when I married and as my family grew.  He didn’t want to push, never pried, and always remained as close as I wanted him to be and as far as he needed to be.

I met a new friend, his wife… my friend.  I’m really glad I did. I told him recently, it’s true… I am so glad that my oldest friend found someone as incredible as my newest friend; she’s the one I would have picked for him.  I am a little picky when it comes to finding someone perfect for my friends; she would have been my first pick.

Sometimes you just have to give it a try, take a leap and be willing to open your heart.  I am so glad I did.

Click to rate this post!
[Total: 0 Average: 0]

11 thoughts on “My Unusual Friendship”

  1. Pingback: When Life Pressed Pause « Dancing with Fireflies

    1. Thanks. She’s a really fantastic woman. I wanted to hate her.. really.. But well, that’s what makes life unusual.

      I am glad you liked the piece. I am pretty sure she has no idea I wrote it. Mwaaa haaa haa!

          1. Well…it is creepy because I post my night on my fb page where all my friends and family can see. Sometimes the phone rings a second after I hit post. I always know it’s my mom;) “why do you tell people that…..” LOL

            1. Pingback: Memories of 16 and Pinky Swears « Dancing with Fireflies

            2. Pingback: Kindred connections « Dancing with Fireflies

            3. Pingback: Kindred connections | Dancing with Fireflies

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.