It was a cold January day. Not that bright, sunny kind of winter cold when you watch snowflakes glisten as they drift past your window and you look forward to skiing or snowboarding. No, this was the dark, damp, depressing, foggy, kind of day when cold rain puddles on the ground and you wish you had airline flights to the Caribbean.
Trying to make the best of it, I was busy writing and searching the internet for information – and that’s when it happened. A popup on my computer screen announced that I had been hacked and my computer was frozen.
After several frustrating calls to apple support, I still could not do anything on the computer and was worried about losing the important data that we all store on our devices. So I got in the car and drove across the bridge to the Apple store in Annapolis. After waiting over an hour, in the crowded, busy confusion of the store, a technician tried to help me, but he explained that it would be a long process to get back to the point of having full use of my computer again. I left, feeling only slightly more encouraged that my computer and the information on it were safe, but dreading the long road of technical challenges ahead of me.
I was frazzled, anxious and downright depressed, and as I started driving home I realized I needed something to distract me from my computer problems and help me calm down. That’s when I put in my earbuds and said, “call Michele!”
Michele and I had been friends for many years – before we’d even met our husbands. We had supported each other through hard times and celebrated good times together. But as often happens with friendships, life took us in different directions, to different parts of the country, and we began to lose touch with each other, connecting only by cards on holidays and infrequent phone calls when we would promise to “call again soon” but never did.
Busy with our own lives, we let the years slip by, but I knew she had never remarried, and on that dark rainy evening, she might be alone. Michele answered immediately, and it was like old times. We talked a little about where we each are right now in our lives, but mostly we talked about the things we did together – the adventures we shared, the fun we had and the challenges we met together. We laughed and talked and laughed some more as I drove back over the bridge to our home on the Eastern Shore.
When I was nearing my driveway and it was time to say goodbye, we were each more honest with each other. We recognized, without any guilt, that realities in both of our lives make it difficult to stay in close touch, but that the friendship, the memories – especially the laughter we shared — will stay with us and be there, ready to add a little light when our lives seem dark – as mine did that night.
By the time I got home I felt refreshed. I left the computer and its’ problems in the back room to be solved in the light of the next day – and I gave thanks for Michele’s friendship – and for all those friendships that have enriched my life!
PS – I just got my computer back online! So now that I’m able to share this story I want to acknowledge some of the other special friends who, like Michele, have made a difference in my life – some who are no longer with us but continue to make me smile just thinking about them, like Judy and Barbara from the lake and Anne and Marilou from college – and those “long-distant-friends” like Carol, Margie, Kristine, Jan and Sandy who, even though they are scattered from California to Maine to Florida and Texas, are still only a phone call away and add so much love and beauty to my life. And of course, those wonderful women who are a part of my everyday life here, especially Carol and Sally. Thank you each!
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