There was a time not so long ago when you were able to sense if something were wrong with me and I always knew when you needed me. I wonder, did you feel the sting of my tears cascading down my cheeks at 3 am yesterday morning or were you sleeping like a baby? My guess is the latter. Funny thing is those tears were about you. Or rather the loss of our friendship. I suppose it shouldn't be such a surprise. It has been a long time in the making. Over the last three years my phone has rung less and less, fewer and fewer texts have come in and there are simply no more invitations to functions at your home. Oh wait, you did call me about a month ago. You wanted me to pick up your sick daughter from school so that you wouldn't have to miss any work.
As I sat there with a salty taste in my mouth I could only think about one thing.
Don't you remember me? The "me" that I used to be. Please tell me you do or am I just that easy to forget?
I'm the chick that used to go to your house every day after work to play cards and hang out. I'm the one that used to camp out at your house on weekends during hunting season when your husband was gone. We played cards, did laundry, ran errands, played with the kids, watched movies and occasionally had a drink or two after we were in for the night. Don't you remember taking me to the bar for the first time in many years? Do you remember me being in complete shock at how people dance these days? I can't remember how many flies I caught while my bottom jaw was on the floor in disbelief. SUS, that's what I called it. Stand up sex. That is what it looks like.
What about going to yard sales and how you practically had to pull me out of the bed at 5:30 am to get ready. Don't you remember the great deal we got on the motorized car for your daughter and found out later that it was not possible to replace that dead battery? I guess that was why they only wanted ten dollars! Do you remember some of the garbage I bought that I didn't need just because it was in front of me and very cheap? That stuff is still taking up most of the room in my shed.
Do you remember all the mornings I stopped by your house on the way to work because your stubborn 3 year old refused to get dressed for you? Those horrific temper tantrums were awful. The tears that poor baby shed, that is until Leah came and then she got her way. Do you remember that sassy smile she would always give you when we came out of her room? As if she were letting you know that she is a whole lot better at this dressing game than you are and boy does she know it. Do you remember how ticked off you would get because after you fighting with her for an hour to get dressed I had her dressed inside of two minutes? I used to get such a kick out of it.
Having a disabled friend can have its advantages at times. How do you think you got a free babysitter all those summers when you couldn't even begin to afford daycare. Yep. The handicapped chick took care of them. I fed them 3 meals a day, five days a week and asked for nothing in return. Do you remember who taught Jessica to swim at age 4? If not, just ask her.
I still like mud pies and tea parties. I still hate having sticky fingers. I still love to play cards. I still love to watch your daughter. I'm still amazed by people that think groping is actually dancing. I'm still the girl that said you would be my friend forever, no matter what. I'm still the girl that is loyal to the end. I will always be the girl that rescues hurt or needy animals and any human I come across that needs a helping hand.
As I sat there in my shirt soaked from all those tears, I realized something. "Me" didn't go anywhere. "Me" isn't lost. "Me" hasn't changed who I am on the inside. "Me" is still a good person that looks at people for who they are on the inside. I also realized that "me" is more loyal than you could ever possibly be. "Me" is still here. You are the one that left.
Me - no more tears!
Leah
 KosAbility is a Sunday 7 pm eastkost/4 pm leftkost volunteer diary series as a community for people living with disabilities, who love someone with a disability, or who want to know more about the issues. Our use of "disability" includes temporary as well as permanent health/medical conditions, and small, gnawing problems as well as major, life-threatening ones. Our use of "love someone" extends to cherished members of other species.
Our discussions are open threads in the context of this community. Feel free to comment on the diary topic, ask questions of the diarist or generally to everyone, share something you've learned, tell bad jokes, post photos, or rage about your situation. Our only rule is to be kind; trolls will be spayed or neutered. If you are interested in contributing a diary, contact series coordinator postmodernista. |
