Old friends are like the bread machine hidden in the laundry room cabinet. Over the years, our family has enjoyed loaves of cinnamon raisin, sticky pecan, and plain old white from that machine. Now it’s neglected. And missed.
When I lug the machine out and bake with it, the smell of homemade bread makes me ashamed of all the months it’s collected dust. It could have been making us loaves for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, croutons, parties, and French toast.
But the machine stays hidden behind a waffle iron and the dog’s heart worm pills. It seems too big, too cumbersome. We settle for doughy bread from the store.
This also happens with old friends, of course. You remember how much your oldest friend loves and understands you, so she lives in the special cabinet of your mind and memory. But who has the energy to lug that friendship out of the dust? Who has time to rearrange schedules for a trip together or a dinner out?
So you settle for text messages and liking each other’s Instagram pictures. Just like eating week-old, store-bought bread, this seems to get the job done. You can make toast from it, right? You can keep up with friends by texting emoticons. Right?
Jen and I were doing a fantastic job of texting once in a while, but a terrible job of actually seeing each other face-to-face. The arrangements were always too complicated. Meeting for dinner was about as convenient as arranging a coffee date with Taylor Swift.
But then, last week, the Indigo Girls came to House of Blues. I texted Jen. We could buy great seats, meet for a long dinner, stay out late—this was exactly what we needed.
In the midst of soccer games, homework, work commitments, and general exhaustion, we dug our friendship out of the dark cabinet and made a night together happen.
We looked at each other and said all of the things we hadn’t been saying in the text messages. We were sorry for not making more effort; life in our 40s could be surprisingly hard and lonely; parenting is exhilarating and sorrowful.
We screamed along with the Indigo Girls songs, met other die-hard fans , and waited way too late by the tour bus to get the Girls to sign our posters. Just like we’ve done at so many concerts before.
The whole night was so much better, so much more necessary, so much more nourishing than texting each other emoticons.
And I’m so glad we made it happen.
It was nice to meet you there! I can relate to this post. My friend who was with me there at the concert drove all the way from San Marcos to go with me on our girl date, and we got caught up with each other’s lives. I, too, contemplated why we don’t do this more often – despite the distance. There are a lot of places we could meet halfway with the kids. I am going to make a more earnest effort to do that over the next year.