Thursday, February 15, 2007
We checked it out of the library. I sat on the couch reading it with Chaya, bawling my eyes out.I remembered the first time I heard it: A friend called, read it to me - we wept together. We haven't spoken for about a year and a half. Though I miss her and think of her often, it's emotionally better for both of us that we let go.
I had another friend - we went to Oregon together. California. We went camping. We made up a niggun to the Ba'al Shem Tov's aphorism, "mayim siman brocha" (water - sign of blessing). She got married, moved to Israel, and we lost touch. I valiantly emailed her. She moved back to the states, I tracked her down. I left a joyful message on her answering machine. Nothing.
I have a current friend, and our relationship has changed. We used to be closer, but "things happened." I don't think we can recover what we once had, but I'm growing comfortable in our new parameters. And that's okay.
I have friends here, some of them precious. I have my Canadian soul-sister. I have some old buddies in Crown Heights. My "friend-needs" are met. Nonetheless, I look back on friends I had, and I feel wistful.
To them I say; Love You Forever.
Love, Maven @ 
3 Comments:
At 5:32 PM,
Wendy said…
Lovely post about friendships. Some change, some evaporate. It's interesting and sad. And sometimes good.
But I must comment on the book. I seriously dislike that book. Someone gave it to me when my kids were teeny and raved. Well, I thought it was just weird. Why would a mother of a grown man break into his house and spy on him? It always weirded me out...that mother and son relationship just seems warped! Okay, rant over.
At 9:31 PM,
Maven said…
wendy - it is indeed a little weird, and has garnered some negative reviews. i think it's like shel silverstein's "the giving tree." in a way, both books were trying to illustrate unconditional love, but they both come off as a little creepy.
At 11:02 PM,
Anonymous said…
I received that book as a gift when my son was born, and as I cried in the car while reading it at red lights (couldn't wait until I got home), I thought it was hormonal. I read it again a year later and still cried with the same intensity! I can hear why someone would say that the relationship seems weird, but if one examines the love of a mother for a child, whether the worry for his safety, the dreams for his future, the joy at his gladness, it doesn't seem to change as the child grows (at least that has been my experience). I see the book as a metaphor for the mother's love, and her hope that her love will be reciprocated at some level, when her child is old enough to appreciate the relationship of parent and child.
I commend the blogger for her efforts to maintain relationships; too often, I am the one to allow mundane life to take priority, and I depend on my friends to maintain the feeling of closeness despite distance in proximity and in frequency of contact. I'm not proud of it, and I do want to change that. thanks for giving me food for thought.
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