It was August of 1992 and my first day in my new hometown. I was excited and slightly nervous as I realized I had completely failed in the outfit selection process. I can assure you there was never a lesson in the good ole 14561 that taught girls like me what to wear to college registration. On top of that, I got to the end of the registration line and the man asked me how I was going to pay my bill. Again, I was stumped. I quickly came to terms with the fact that I was totally unprepared for this college gig.
I came into the laundry room at my dorm to see this girl with the most beautiful white hair I had ever seen. It was curled up in ringlets like Nellie Olson. I thought they were fantastic. Her makeup was flawless, her shoes were spotless, and she had a gleam in her eye. I couldn't tell if the gleam was friendly or cruel, but either way, I was intrigued.
My nervous energy went on full throttle as I rambled on and on about my day...the guy that hit on me in line, my new work-study job, and the comfort level of my new shoes. All while her eyes looked me up and down. She couldn't get out of that laundry room fast enough. She later told me she couldn't tolerate one more word...I simply talked too much that day.
It didn't take long before we met up again and eventually became college roommates. For ten semesters, we shared a room; me on the bottom bunk and her on the top. She had a matching ensemble for her room. She had Precious Moments dolls that were probably worth quite a bit, even though I found them rather scary. She had a white stereo.
She was messy and liked to sleep in. She survived on Cracker Barrel and Velveeta Shells and Cheese. She listened to Color Me Badd. She sang in the choir. She had a necklace with her name in cursive letters. She matched her shower gel color to her outfit for the day. She was from South Florida.
Twenty-two years later, and there is still absolutely no reason we should be friends. I could tell you story after story that would leave you in tears. She is one hilarious chick who finds herself in the oddest predicaments. We had one fight. It was over her erratic behavior after a break-up with her boyfriend. She slammed a dozen roses in the parking lot and I thought that was just not kind.
The thing is, she was bold and didn't take crap from anyone. I think that may have been why I was drawn to her. My courage was on the short end at the time and she was not afraid to tell anyone what she thought. One time, her favorite pajamas came up missing from the laundry room. She came back to the room in a rage, "I'm going to find those pajamas. You know they'll be easy to track down. There's a white out stain near the collar." Sure enough, ole girl searched the dorm, tracked down the pjs and had a great night's sleep that night.
One late morning in college, we were all sitting on the couch watching tv, when we heard this commotion rolling down the stairs. We looked up to find Michelle, in her pjs, sprawled out at the bottom of the stairs from her tumble. She shook her head, smiled and said, "And good morning to you!"
It is one of those friendships you see in the movies. We have both grown so much because of and in spite of each other. There are times I push and she stands still. There are times she pulls and I turn the opposite direction. The best friendships are made, not on what you expect or want from a person, but from what they are to you, at any given moment. For me, Michelle was my biggest fan who always made me feel that I could conquer the world.
A few weekends ago, we both found ourselves in unfamiliar territory. She, Mrs. Career Driven, was not working over the summer, and me, Mrs. Overplanned, had nothing on the calendar.
One of my dear friends, Leslie, quickly offered to host a brief get-away for me, Lily, Michelle and her daughter Anabelle at one of my favorite places, Howe Creek.
We had never been on a beach trip before this. I cherished every moment of sun kissed splendor filled with convertible rides, wildly inappropriate stories, great music, and late night tears. Each night we forced ourselves to bed, well past midnight, as we knew the young ones would awaken early.
We talked about the books we wanted to write. Hers is dark and twisted. Mine is hopeful and encouraging. She said, "You probably wouldn't read my book." I said, "You're probably right, but I'd throw you one heck of a book-signing party."
Before falling asleep each night, she would say, "I love you Auts. Thank you for a great day." She knew just what this girl needed. Loved and thankful. That I am.
~ao
No comments:
Post a Comment