Friends That You Keep
Posted July 12, 2011 by
On Saturday Vera and I drove down to Long Beach to see a friend. On the way we stopped to pick up a few things that I put into a gift bag: a bottle of Beckman, some peanut M&Ms, a can of Graber olives, and a sack of beach toys — all things that hold special meaning for my oldest friend Liz and her kids. They moved back to California 5 days ago, after seven years in Baltimore.
Liz and I met at Montessori in Atlanta and have been friends ever since.
(Me & Liz, age 5. She still makes that exact face.)
We went to prom together, graduated high school together, bummed around Europe and visited each other in all the various places we lived after that — Charleston, NYC, DC and LA.
(Me & Liz, age 6. My mom used to call her Peanut. I’m still taller than her.)
Liz flew home from studying abroad in Spain the week my mother died and slept in my bed with me for a week. Although I felt more alone than I ever had that week, listening to her quiet nighttime breathing on the pillow beside me was the only thing that held me together.
(Us in 9th grade. We both have braces and it’s my 15th birthday. My mom sent us to the movies in a limo and made us get dressed up. I’m cringing just writing about it.)
Seven years later when my dad got sick we were both living in California. Liz visited my dad every week and she was there holding his other hand the night he died. Needless to say, Liz shows up in almost every chapter of my book.
(Here we are with our senior prom dates. My hair is an appalling shade of red — I dyed it that afternoon, naturally. Liz still has that dress and wears it sometimes. And it still looks great.)
(Our senior year photo shoot. Although we naturally looked pretty surly in those days, we were really playing it up for guy behind the camera.)
Liz moved to Baltimore a year or so after my dad died when her beautiful, young sister was diagnosed with cancer. Jen died in 2007, a month before Liz found out that she was pregnant with her daughter. I wish I could say all the above that I wrote about Liz — that I was by her side when Jen died, that I was there that week, helping her feel not so alone, but for a thousand reasons that I wish I could change now, I wasn’t.
(Me and Liz in Spain. You’ll have to read Chapter 4 of my book for the story behind this photo.)
(Me putting my mother’s wedding garter on Liz’s leg, moments before she walked down the aisle.)
(Thoroughly tipsy at Beckman Vineyards outside of Santa Barbara 6 or so years ago.)
In the last 4 years Liz and I have been through a lot of life moments without each other — my wedding, the birth of three kids between the two of us, cross-country moves, and a lot more things that aren’t so loud. But we’ve held on.
(Liz visiting me in Chicago with her daugther Reilly three weeks after Veronica was born.)
On Saturday I got to drive down to Long Beach and walk into Liz’s new home. I got to watch our daughters play together.
(Veronica & Reilly Jane)
And I got to feel the companionship of one of the few people I’ve known my entire life.
(Me & Liz, three days ago.)
Also see:
On Running Away, Not From Home, But To It
Home from NYC: A Love Letter to the Women in My Life
Letting GoFiled under: California, Friends by Claire Bidwell Smith
13 Comments
Claire — I have been quietly reading your blog for a year or so but was moved to thank you after this touching entry. What a blessing to have a friend like Liz. I have moved around a lot in life and am often overcome with loneliness when memories return and I am far away from those who share them with me. There is nothing to compare with someone who has known you for a lifetime, whose bones and sinews just know what to do and whose presence or voice is peace-giving. May you and Liz have each other for many more years and may your children also know the beauty of such friendship.
Thanks for your beautiful blog.
Comment by Kirsten on July 12, 2011 at 4:25 pm
What a beautiful story of a beautiful friendship. Chosen family is a very special thing. And having someone to give your life continuity like you and Liz give each other is remarkable and so rare. What a great reward after having gone through so much (good and bad) to have each other only a short drive away. You are both very lucky, and it’s crystal clear that you know that. Enjoy. xoxo
Comment by Ron Stempkowski on July 12, 2011 at 6:07 pm
What a beautiful story and friendship. I have a friend who is just like this in my life. Your blog post reminded me to let her know how much I appreciate her!! Thank you!
Comment by Vanessa on July 12, 2011 at 9:21 pm
Loved this post, Claire – it was such a journey into your friendship. It takes a good friend to have a good friend.
Comment by Aeshna on July 12, 2011 at 10:58 pm
Thanks, Aeshna!
Comment by Claire Bidwell Smith on July 13, 2011 at 4:02 pm
Aw, Vanessa I love that this was a reminder for you!
Comment by Claire Bidwell Smith on July 13, 2011 at 4:02 pm
Ron, you hit it on the head — chosen family. Such a powerful thing. xx
Comment by Claire Bidwell Smith on July 13, 2011 at 4:03 pm
Aw, thanks for coming out of the woodwork Kirsten! And thank you for your sweet blessings.
Comment by Claire Bidwell Smith on July 13, 2011 at 4:03 pm
We loved seeing you guys on Saturday! Thanks for the lovely post. I am so glad we are back together again. xoxo
Comment by Liz on July 14, 2011 at 8:41 am
god, I love these photos! so I can have a companion visual, I’m going to pull up this blog entry while I’m reading all about Liz in your book. I can’t wait to meet Liz, too.
Comment by Lien on July 14, 2011 at 11:25 am
No matter what the genetics may be, clearly the two of you are heart sisters
After all the life’s curves you two have weathered, it’s so good to see you both in smiles again! Welcome back to each others daily lives!!
Comment by Carroll on July 14, 2011 at 1:54 pm
Aw, me too Liz.
Comment by Claire Bidwell Smith on July 15, 2011 at 8:56 am
Carroll, when are you coming down?
Comment by Claire Bidwell Smith on July 15, 2011 at 8:56 am
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