Our friendship developed about the same time our bodies started to blossom. Now, 40 years later, having taken its toll on us – we realized time was not our friend.
Longstanding friends understand you like no other. They help you grasp your swords of life. The bond is nurturing, cathartic, a lifetime of flowing memories. So not having seen her lately, I’ve been a bundle of lecherous nerves, bloated with high hopes to see her again. I need her to keep me sanely in sync. I want to sing the Stylistic’s song “You Make Me Feel Brand New” when I see her.
Like any trust-worthy, dependable friend, she always refreshed my inner Zen, refilled my empty coffee mug and balanced my unevenness. I anticipated and trusted that her visits would make me feel so right when I felt so disfigured.
Sprouting our way through adolescence, my momma and Aunt Flo warned me “Friends can be needy, burdensome, and onerous. There’d be friends like this,” my momma said. Sure, we had our share of love-hate brawl sessions. She occasionally pained me, disrupted plans, and made me miserable, but I always had to be the bigger person in this kinship; the one who always had to be flexible with changing plans or clothes, ending dates early, making up excuses for “not tonight,” or compromising on sexual positions.
Through the wears and tears of our thirties and forties, my friend and I always found a happy medium. I always welcomed her visits. Especially after that little voice in my head cried for nights, “Do I have a bun in the oven?” She was rarely a thorn in my side, never too oppressive or imposing. She proved to be a bit of dead weight though when she insisted on showing up during those stressful “trying to make a baby” years. I prayed for her temporary expectant departure – say 9 months, but fate had another design.
When we fought, she bled me dry. After, we would embrace, make up, and celebrate our reunion. Like all celebrations with good friends, we would indulge. Inevitably during her visits extra pounds appeared, but I got over it.
Now, pushing mid-life, when I finally have my mind together – or so I thought, my body is falling apart. I really could use a visit. I know she really wanted to visit me. I kept waiting for signs that she might be on her way, but with depleted resources, hemorrhage of assets perhaps, she canceled month after month. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but I really did miss her. Her visits always made me want to sing. She brought music to my ears. As always, a good friend makes you feel normal, and I am just erratic without her.
The years have left us chronologically young, but biologically withered. Now with her cycle completed, she leaves my days and nights heated. Her defunct essence rests in my viscera and disjointed memory. Youth, curves, moistened femininity, memory, patience, restful dreams, and my libido all gone to rest with her.
Goodbye youthful friend. I will always cherish your cathartic, ever-flow within me. Your string-along faithfulness and monthly rejuvenating will be missed.