The Goddess Speaks
The Goddess Speaks
I had a pretty close-knit group of friends in high school, but three of us became particularly close. Like the legs of a three-legged stool, when we were together we created a solid unit. Jen, Steph and Nancy became Jenstephanance. Missing: one friend
I left for college in San Francisco right after graduation, but we kept in touch. I'd come home every chance I got and it would be Jenstephanance all over again.
Two years after my move to the mainland we were all back at Jen's for a raucous New Year's Eve party. It was 1989. At some point Jenstephanance ditched the rest of the guests and stole up to Jen's room to execute a goofy idea. We wrote predictions of what each of us would be doing 10 years hence, at the turn of the century. We made three sets of copies, sealed them (not having read what the other two wrote) and planned to open them on New Year's Eve 1999. The one thing we were sure of is that we'd all be together.
In the intervening years, Jen and Nancy survived working together. Nancy and I lived together after I moved home from college. They were both in my wedding party, and we were both in Jen's. But by then, the third leg of our stool seemed to be wiggling loose.
Always busy with work and never the best at staying in touch, Nancy had become more remote. When she decided to take a promotion in San Francisco, Jen and I were so worried about losing touch with her, we gave her a set of stationary with half the envelopes addressed to me and half to Jen, postage paid. That was six years ago. Whatever has become of those envelopes, the stamps are now obsolete.
I'd stopped trying to make contact by the time Jen and her husband moved to San Jose two years ago. Jen was determined to restore her friendship with Nancy, after all she would be a mere hour's drive away. Jen's frequent and sometimes dramatic attempts to get together came to a head this past Thanksgiving when Jen and her husband basically kidnapped Nancy and took her to dinner. The cajoling involved chilled their reunion.
Then came New Year's Eve and our predictions. We weren't together to read them.
Jen's family arranged a gathering on the West Coast and my husband and I stayed home to nurse our cat through the fireworks. We don't know what Nancy was up to.
Jen and I finally read the predictions, on our own, last week. I had sent Nancy copies in case she'd lost them, but we haven't heard from her.
Over the phone we laughed about the details, some of which were right on, some, well, not.
But the gist of our lives was there. We had pretty much become the people we expected to be. Not as adventurous, maybe, or as ambitious, but pretty close. There was one exception.
Nancy's prediction for herself was 180 degrees from who and where she was and, near as we can tell, who and where she is.
We didn't laugh about that.
It struck us that this desire to be different from what we expected might explain why our friend had to remove herself from her past.
It might be a common strategy, but it still stabs at my heart. Mostly because it makes me realize she doesn't know we would love her no matter what she wanted or who she wanted to be. We would even love her if she never changed a bit.
We all wanted a lot for each other in those predictions. And we've been blessed to achieve much of what we wanted. But the theme beneath it all was that we still wanted to be friends.
That old three legged stool is pretty sad with one leg missing.
Stephanie Kendrick is assistant features editor.
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