the Traveling Writing Room

February 25, 2019

 

Fifty years and counting . . .

 

Hey-ho! The adventure continues with Gerp, the Traveling Writing Room, Atticus, the Labradoodle and me. We’ve been holed up in Tyler, Texas for a week. Why, Tyler? Because someone I love lives here. We met fifty years ago as college freshmen. She lived across the hall in the beginning, then we became roommates later on. We were eighteen-years-old and more than ready to leap from the nest.

 

These last few days we’ve been talking and laughing non-stop. We had not seen each other in over ten years but we fell right into step without a skip. There is something special and unbreakable between people who’ve shared dorm life, late night popcorn, and date debriefings. Four of us lived in the corner of our wing and borrowed everything from each other from clothes to curlers. Three of us are left now, so the other night we Face-Timed our other musketeer and had a lovely reunion. With the three heads put together we were able to remember a good chunk of the ‘old days’ like certain people, who dated who, and various events. These two girls were a major part of my life when I met my future husband and the same with them when they met their beloveds.  We experienced disappointments and successes with each other. And, walked arm in arm as we navigated through the turbulent but beautiful journey toward womanhood. We stayed in touch, of course, although one of us is pretty pitiful when it comes to modern technology and communication.  I was so surprised to see that Tyler, Texas actually has phone service, because she never uses it.

 

After college we went our separate ways. Life happened. We became wives and mothers. We used our talents and gifts in the workplace. A writer. A teacher. A business woman. We were active in our churches. We volunteered. We loved. We supported. We nurtured. We led. And, now we are grandmothers.

 

But, once a long, long, time ago, we were just girls who, by God’s grace, found ourselves crowded in a dorm room together, in our jammies, cooking on a hot plate, rolling our hair, talking about boys, studying for exams, and dreaming together about our futures. Would we love and be loved? How many children would we have? What kind of work would we do? Would we travel? Where would we live? Would our lives matter? Fifty years later, all has been answered.

 

My personality, sense of humor, work ethic, faith and love in God, my marriage, my motherhood, and my friendships were all being formed in-between the laughter, the tears, and the tiny rebellions and revolutions we shared so many years ago. And the biggest blessing of all is that fifty years later, not much has been unsaid. I love these women and they love me. We’ve told each other that, we’ve written it, texted it, (except the one who doesn’t seem to know how to use a phone) and we’ve thanked God for it… many times over.

 

Goodness gracious, have I had a good life or what? All is well in the TWR. And now, I'm off to a ranch.

 

Later,

deb

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