Friends Helping Friends

When you are in crisis mode, which is the way I feel at the moment, help is offered by surprising sources. This weekend, help was offered by a "Mommy" friend. I hate to qualify her as only a "Mommy" friend, but I guess there is no other way to categorize her since I met her through our sons. She called me during the week to say she could imagine how crazed I am, so could she take our son off our hands for a few hours on Saturday? Yes, can you imagine how blown away I was by the thoughtfulness of her call? This coming from a woman who works full time, takes care of a husband, and two kids. She is from Ohio, so perhaps that explains. This call was in such contrast to some of my phone conversations with friends, who have said nary a word about how I was doing trying to sort out our lives or offered much help, but who have prattled on for half an hour about why so and so is such a nincompoop. Or worse, prattled on about themselves, so that by the end of the conversation I'm exhausted.

I'm not being fair, really. My friends, those who have been through it all with me, do offer help in ways they can't even imagine. One friend's advice for us to move to Manhattan rather than Brooklyn was hugely important. Her input, gentle prodding, and suggestions was all I heard as we raced around Brooklyn and Manhattan, desperately searching for a place to call home for the next year. An old friend, who really qualifies as family at this point, is coming over to help me figure out my computer. Another friend, a more recent friend, has offered to come over to help me log in my books. That immediately puts her on the list of "new" friend to "permanent" lifetime friend. My neighbor and friend purchased our fake 10 foot Christmas tree, which to me is the most generous thing anyone could do. Why, you are wondering does one need a ten foot Christmas tree, right? Well, when you live in Suburban hell, which is what LA feels like, you can spend endless hours turning your home into a spread from Better Homes and Garden. Or rather, that's the way I responded to life here.

Since this is a post about friends, I'm struck by how tenuous most of our connections are to those we call "friends." When my life was falling apart not too long ago, I found myself calling two people. I don't know why I didn't feel I could call everyone in my Rolodex, or rather my cell phone address book. But when you are in a moment of crisis, things crystallize in a way that cuts through the fat. My two friends, when called, came over to offer their company. There were no words of judgment, no empty platitudes about how this too shall pass, but instead they sat with me as I cried from a place so deep it felt as if my torso was being cut in half. I knew that my pain, all of the messiness of my life, was not going to be recounted, so that your personal pain is nothing more than dinner conversation. These tenuous bonds we spend so much of our energy and time nurturing are, ultimately, as fragile as a spider's web. And so, I continue on, purging all that have defined my life up to this point, physically, mentally, and emotionally. And no, I haven't finished using all of the flour or finished categorizing all of my books.