Sometimes I wonder what makes friendships last. Is it a common history? Shared interests? Intellect? Points of view that mesh beautifully? When I was a little girl, I had all sorts of friends: Betty, my best-friend-from-the-bus; Connie, my blood-sister-best-friend; Debbie, my best-friend-cousin; Bonita, my best-friend-sister. I suppose Mom had friends, too. She had Extension Club and Church, and of course family.
I never thought about Mom having friends, when I was a little girl. That’s ’cause mothers are not real people. Well, not real like kids are real. Moms never get sick, or need anything, or want to do anything except take care of kids and maybe have more kids. Oh, and talk about kids.
Mom visited all the time with Mrs. R, from across the street. Mrs R was Nancy’s and Doug’s and Noreen’s mother. Us kids played cowboys and Indians or piggy-in-my-pen, while those two moms talked all afternoon. Moms never played. They just watched kids playing. Most of the time, they didn’t even watch. Play kinda bores Moms.
Mom went to Extension Club, same as my friend Betty’s mom. At Extension Club, moms got together to Continue reading