A good friend of mine, who eventually moved to Maine, introduced me to a woman named Margaret. There was an immediate attraction, as we seemed to speak the same language. She was honest and interesting and funny, and talked with her hands as I did. I remember leaving our friends home, saying to myself, “I want to be friends with Margaret.” We started talking more, and calling each other, and going out to dinner, and having long talks about everything under the sun, most of which, we agreed on. We visited each other’s homes, and I got close with her three kids, and she adored “our” little Sara. I’m not quite sure if she knows yet, some twenty one years later, that it was actually me who gave birth to Sara. She adopted her as her own as soon as my little girl was born. And she’s never stopped believing she is her fourth child. And that’s fine with me. We stayed close all through our child rearing days. We could talk on the phone for hours, and did. Once the six kids between us went off to never never land.
We liked the same books, the same people, like Maya Angelou, Oprah, Marianne Williamson, Deepak Chopra, and we ended up seeing him in person, and getting his autograph on our books. When we were together, there was never an awkward moment of silence. It was more like fighting to get a word in edgewise between us. We would go to parties she’d invite me to, and she was always at any function I had, and we attended meditation classes, she introduced me to some very warm, caring people, and we recently took our daughter to Philadelphia to see Sylvia Browne. What a great day. We got there early, walked around sightseeing, each bought a pair of shoes, and I bought Sara a t shirt, took a lot of pictures, went to the Hard Rock Café for dinner, then on to the show. It’s a memory I’ll always carry in my heart. Twenty two years we have remained friends. I don’t believe we’ll ever end our unique and close friendship. I have always been able to trust my dear friend, and she feels the same about me. This time, I picked a winner.
