My parents paid me a surprise visit, a few days after Maryjane left, and talked me into coming home, which I did. Months later, my honey came back.
I worked with her at Shop-Rite, in junior and senior year of high school. We were in the work release program, got out of school at 11, and worked 12-8, and were getting paid good money. I hated it, she loved it.
I was with my dear friend the day she got her license. Her brother had given her his red mustang, probably a ‘69 maybe? She loved it, and looked forward to driving it for months. We were stopped to wait for traffic so we could make a left hand turn, she made it, a car was coming, side swiped us and we almost went through the window of a store. I forget if she kept driving it. When she had her son, I was his God mother, albeit not a very good one, not being close.
She has a beautiful home a few towns away-it looks just like her, lacey and frilly with dolls and knick knacks and pillows. It emanates her spirit. Open, and honest, a little naive at times, okay, many times, innocent, clean, inviting, warm, and cozy. She loves black and white cows, for some unknown reason. All those hours of talking brought us to where we are today. We impacted each other’s lives. We spent quality time together for years. We were each other’s sounding boards. I was her protector. She was too nice to ever be mean to a boy, so when one liked her and wouldn’t stop bugging her, I had to break the news to him.
She didn’t want to go out with him. It was no problem for me, but she couldn’t do things like that. We complimented each other because we were different, and we kept each other interested. We knew we had each other as companions and friends, and were closer than sisters. Yup, I may never see or talk to my best friend Maryjane, but the love I have for her never leaves my heart and soul.
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