Although it wasn’t our original intention, Connie and I ended up playing hooky from Sunday school, and we used part of that time to talk about truly important issues… like friendship, for example. She told me about a friend whom she hadn’t seen in years and yet who was once an integral part of her life. “Same here,” I said. “It’s weird how someone can be so close to you and then your lives go in different directions, and you slowly lose touch.” We agreed that we both needed to do a better job of relationship maintenance, perhaps by calling or emailing an old friend today.

Connie then went on to remark how every friend had influenced her in some way, perhaps in the creation of a new hobby, the sparking of a new interest, or a changed way of looking at the world. I never knew about “boxing day” in England before meeting Dorothy, and I probably wouldn’t have read about life in Mitford if Cindy hadn’t chosen a novel about it as a book club selection. I never knew there were such subtle differences in paint hues and tones until June taught me. What would have thought that mocha and khaki were so different?

Even though some of our amigas might not currently be part of our daily lives, they can live in our hearts and minds for decades. Our conversation reminded me of something I once read about raindrops on a windshield coming together as one for an instant before being divided again, each changed by the other and each carrying part of the other with it. Who hasn’t experienced this sight? And of course, it doesn’t end with two little raindrops, for each goes on to share what it has absorbed with other raindrops…with other friends.

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