We women need our friendships with other women like petunias need the sunshine to bloom.
Why are female friendships so vital to us? What is it that we do for each other that’s so important?
We show up. We walk our friend up and down the corridors of the hospital when she’s in labor. We get out of our warm bed and drive to her house in our nightgown when we get the phone call that her mother has just died. We take her by the arm and drive her to the doctor when she’s so depressed we’re afraid to leave her alone for the night. We put our arms around her and wipe her tears after that sorry boyfriend cheats on her, just like we had tried to tell her he was going to do. We listen to her talk when she needs to get it out, even when we have a million other things we need to be doing.
We help each other birth babies and bury husbands. We hold each other when our children break our hearts. We giggle together like fifth-grade girls at a slumber party, even when we’re grandmothers. We hold each other up. We tie each other’s shoes and hand each other Kleenex and hold each other’s heads when we’re throwing up from too many martinis or from the chemo that’s been dripped into our veins to save our lives.
We walk endless miles together and put bandages on each other’s blisters. We pray with each other on the phone when life seems so dark we can’t bear to even open the door in the morning. We soothe each other’s fears, and scare away the boogeymen.
We buck each other up. We whisper, “Hold your head up, put on some fresh lipstick, put a smile on your face, and walk out the door. You can do it. I’m praying for you.”
We rejoice with each other. We celebrate first dates, proposals, weddings, babies, birthdays, graduations, promotions, victories, grandchildren, and retirements.
We grieve with each other. We cry with each other over lost babies, lost teenagers, lost dreams, and lost husbands.
We show up. We’re there for each other—at the wedding, the waiting room, the labor room, the recovery room, the chemo center, the funeral home, and the cemetery.
We women stitch each other back up. We put neat patches on the ripped places in each other’s hearts, and knit back up the frayed cuffs of our lives.
We remind each other, like Aibee did for Baby Girl in The Help, “You is kind. You is smart. You is important.”
We need the shared strength of our women friends to walk through our lives with courage and grace.
M! Feb/Mar 2012
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