Sometimes I think

I’ve lived too long -

a thousand years

of turmoil

engraved

on my skin.

Layers of light

rising out of reach,

interlaced thoughts

obscured by fog.

Coldness cleaving

to my soul

in icy daggers.

I look within

and see beginnings

of precious times

still to come -

the future pulses

within my heartbeat

as I feel warmth

of liquid sun

rebounding in waves

of promise.

A girl with her head high

with control

over her world,

a girl with a path

a way carved out for her.

A girl who never wandered,

who never tasted the folds and wrinkles

of the world,

reserved for the invisible,

the lost.

A girl who knows

who she is

and where she's going,

a girl not the least bit lost

a girl I dream of being.

. . .but then again,

maybe not.

I am beyond every aloof, unwarranted thought

I,

Fearless, undefeated life;

With overflowing resilience,

Tremoring height,

I transcend.

On an ordinary day in May, I was delivering the mail to Dr. Kaplan, Endocrinologist, 5555 Nesconset Hwy.  As I picked up his outgoing mail, I also picked up my new best friend.

I'd seen her day after day and we had never said more than "Hi" as I dropped the mail in the designated receptacle, until the day I walked in and she was shedding tears all over her reception desk.

"What's wrong?" I asked.  Only a cold fish wouldn't have asked.  Thinking she would blow me off and say "nothing" wiping her tears, I was wrong.  She didn't.

"My boyfriend dumped me and told me to move out of his apartment.  I'm moving in with my grandmother."

Having been recently divorced and struggling with bouts of depression myself, most weekends when my kids were with their Dad I typically didn't even get out of my favorite spaghetti stained sweats, let alone my driveway.  After a work week filled with bouts of insomnia, sleep mattered more than my lack of a social life.  Looking upon another desperate soul I recognized her vulnerability and swooped in like a hawk on prey and boldly asked her, "Do you want to meet for coffee after work and talk about it?"

"Okay." She replied somewhat cautiously with a reluctant look in her eyes. Her desperation didn't turn me off.  It rather intrigued me.

Halfway through our cup of coffee, we were both hooked on our budding friendship in spite of the fact that I was ten years older and a single parent to teenagers. I'd experienced love at first sight and head over heals before with the opposite sex, but does this happen with platonic friends?

Nicknames may seem more appropriate in grammar school but we had no shame in calling each other by our given pet name that we came up with at one of our many happy hour outings.  She was my Sashi and I was her Bashi.  She could talk me into most anything, dragging me to places I'd never been.  When at one joint I experienced my first shot ever; Jagermeister.  We'd dance till our feet hurt, ocassioanally giving out our number to guys; usually a bogus number.  We never left anyplace without each other and we laughed on our ride home about the evening's shenanigans.  

We cooked together at my house with my kids, helping them with their homework, and afterwards we'd watch a mindless TV show;  Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, Blossom, Full House..., and my house was full of laughter and love.  Sleep came easy; I started exercising and felt and looked better than I had in years.

After two years of our together fun, my Sashi said out of the blue, "I'm such a loser.  I'm 27 years old, living in my grandmother's house with no prospects, working in a dead end job.  I'm going back to school."

It was the first time I heard her truly sound down in the dumps since the day we met.  It was then I realized I had never heard her complain about her circumstances much at all. She had given so much of herself to me, more then I realized I needed; so much laughter, so many smiles.

"Going back to school is a fantastic idea! Let's go out to celebrate."

I took hold of the evening's event reins.  

"Where are we going?" She asked.

"Leave the details up to me." I replied.  "Go pretty yourself up and meet me in my car."

When she got in the car I announced, "I'm not going to blindfold you, but I am going to give you instructions. This is what we are going to do. Tonight you are not Sashi and I am not Bashi.  Think of who you want to be.  Change everything; your profession; your history;  even your name. Let's improv and see where it takes us." 

We had little time to plan, so we meandered our way through the evening improvisationally, I as Melinda an anesthesiologist, she as Vivian a trial lawyer.  We navigated through the crowd at the club, Heffrons, each as an alter ego, side by side, pulling off this rouse to perfection and we left laughing out loud while recounting our performance all the way home.

The following semester my Sashi did go back to school.  She then landed a dream job and latter that year around the same time, both of us met our husbands to be.

Fast forward decades, she's now a happily married Mom of teenagers and I'm retired, but every now and then we make a Sashi and Bashi date, tearing it up as best we can one more time as happily ever after smiling old besties.

I can picture you there,

walking among the clouds with

sunshine dancing in your hair

Your eyes wide and shining

I hold tightly to the promise

of seeing you again, someday

Meeting you on the tip of the sun

and wrapping my arms around you

You say

“Welcome home, sister”

Finally I smile

Before I peed on the stick to confirm my pregnancies I knew each time. The tenderness in my breasts was always the initial tell tale sign. Within a couple of weeks my pants would be too tight. Of course the Haagen-Dazs ice cream and cookies I gave myself permission to eat didn't help. Nausea was never a big problem for me. Perhaps if I ever had an empty stomach, it might have been.

Surprisingly, even though I was only 22 the first time I got pregnant, there was no fear. My embryonic thought was, "Women have been doing this for like, forever, so I can do this too."

The first noticeable movement of the fetus was around four months and if you want to know what it feels like, it feels exactly like what it is. A human life growing within your body. If you press on your skin from the outside, you know the feeling. So now imagine the pressing on your skin, but inside out. At first it feels light and quick, like a flutter, the gentlists of touch. Lightly flick your finger on your palm and you will know the lightness. The fluttering feeling increases daily until it ultimately crescendos into inside out jabs and shoves that might be felt in a boxing ring. Okay that might be an exaggeration because its not really painful, but the pressure and jabs are strong.

Towards the end you can sit and watch your own stomach contort and stretch beyond what seems conceivable. As you closely observe your epidermis you will wonder is that the foot, the knee, the elbow, the skull? And sometimes you will know the answer. Once I sware I saw the face of my unborn child pushing up from the womb as if to say, "HELLO IT'S ME."

You did not ask what it is like to give birth, so I will save you those details. In total, I was pregnant for 30 months of my life. 3 healthy 9 month pregnancies and one that was lost at 3 months. Being pregnant was challenging and miraculous at the same time and was probably the most purposeful, memorable 30 months of my life.

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