Tami and I are planning a weekend getaway, just us girls, to celebrate our sixtieth year.

She turned sixty last December, and I am becoming sixty at the end of July. We were first going to take a train down to California. And then we decided she could fly to Seattle and we would go away and have time to talk and be.

I’ve known Tami since I was four. When I think of Tami, I think of how I met her. I think of her older brothers and sisters. I think of her Mom. I think of us going downtown on the train, alone, to stay for the weekend with her Dad. I think of lots of overnights at her home, side by side reading Nancy Drew books. I think of when I had to move away in fifth grade and how we promised we would always be there for one another.

We are going to talk for fifteen minutes tonight about the plan and I search great getaways around here. There is so much we can choose. Do we want the mountains? Do we want to head east to Lake Chelan? Do we want one of the islands? Do we want to stay local? There are many options. I’m tired from the day, so I go upstairs to wait for her phone call. I snooze, but wake up and see I haven’t missed her phone call.

Tami calls me, and I pick up. When did we talk to each other last? It must have been a few months ago, right before they went to Florida for March. The first things out-of-her mouth is that they sold their home. Oh, they sold their home. Yeah. They had the house on the market off and on for two years. She didn’t want it sold until Emily, her last, had graduated from getting her Masters. Emily graduates next week. She tells me all of the “ins and outs” of the details. She is ready to be done with this home that is too large for the two of them. It’s time for simplifying everything. Being able to share this moment with Tami is gratifying. Their home is where I usually stay when I’m in Chicago, so I have fond memories of their home too.

We giggle back and forth like we did when we were in grade school. I tell Tami, I’d love to write Emily’s book chronicling her successes so far. I say this because when I saw them in January and I had done her Dad’s book as part of his sixtieth surprise party; she thought it was so cool she wanted one for herself. I offer this to Tami now so she can put it somewhere in her brain and we can talk about it after Emily graduates after Emily goes to Nationals (for horsemanship) the following week and after they find a temporary or permanent place to live.

Grant calls me, and I put Tami on hold. He’s going to be up for awhile reading his book, so I tell him I’m going to call him back. I say I’m on the phone with Tami and he knows what that means. He tells me to tell her to say, “hi” from him, and he says, “have a good time gabbing with Tami.”

Our talks are more than gabbing; they’re inspirational. I’ve known Tami for so long that we can fill in the spaces of our lives when we talk. She tells me about her kids. I tell her about mine. We talk about work. I tell her about my fears. She doesn’t miss a beat when she reassuringly says that I have always done things that have stretched me, gotten me out of my comfort zone and my situations have worked out to my betterment, and they have. Her trust in me comforts my fears.  I trust her like I did when she taught me a lesson I didn’t quite get in school or when she insisted on going with me to my sister’s funeral and all that she has done for me that holds volumes of heartfelt memories.

What can you say about a friendship that chronicles your life? Yes, I wrote Jim’s book. I’ll write Emily’s book, and I’ll write Tami’s book when we go on our weekend getaway. June twenty-first would be perfect because that’s the last day of me working in the schools and a great time to see her. We also know that she has no idea what’s in store for her with closing the home and finding a new place to stay. So we are flexible. If it doesn’t work out in June, then September. If it doesn’t work out in September, we’ll see each other when it is supposed to happen.

We were only going to talk for fifteen minutes and by the time we hang up I see that it’s been seventy-five minutes. It has been an hour and a half of pure inspiration and love.

Who is your best friend or friends and what do they give you?

These are the stories that write our hearts.

Love ya and have a good day.

Beth