Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Lisa was different from me. She had two parents who worked instead of one. Her father was a salesman, and her mother was a teacher. She lived in a house that was similar to mine, though a bit larger. Spending time at her house was always a treat, because her mother let us make forts out of chairs and blankets, and even let us sleep in the tents if we were good girls (which we always were). Lisa's mother was always nice to me, and I recall having several childhood fantasies that included discovering she was my REAL mother and would take me away from the evil woman who had stolen me away.
In any case, Lisa and I spent a happy few years as Bestest Friends. We played together, ate lunch together, watched tv together, swam together... It was a fairly typical best friend scenario, I suppose. The years slipped by and we moved from elementary school to middle school, and we were in different classes. We started to drift. I met other friends, but Lisa was always there. I missed her when I hadn't seen her for a while.
Then I discovered Boys. About that time, Lisa discovered Olympic swimming, and applied herself to that rather than the male of the species. We drifted far, far away. We never ceased to be friends, and I still talk to her from time to time on FaceBook, but the years have created a chasm that really isn't bridgeable. I miss the joy of our childhood friendship, while realizing that it ended a very long time ago.
I became a high school drop out, and she went to Barcelona to represent our country. I remember watching her, cheering her on, and being so disappointed when she didn't make a medal. Still, she had gone to the Olympics! It was an, "I knew her when..." moment. She has beautiful kids now, and a normal home, normal life, normal husband... so far removed from me. I wouldn't want that kind of normal, even if I could get it. It's not my thing. But every once in a while, there's that... pang.