Dear Ms. Feverfew –
A week or so ago, my mom called and asked me, “Would we be friends?”
“You know, if we weren’t mother and daughter and didn’t have all this history between us? Like if we had just met in a class or at church or something, would we be friends?”
I told her that I thought we would be – I think she’s a pretty neat person, in spite of our history. And I really mean it. She’s an incredible woman who has overcome things in her life that I simply can’t fathom – she has a steely resiliency that is a wonder to behold. I tell her all the time, “Ma, I don’t know why you aren’t sitting in a corner drooling right now because anyone else who has been through what you have been through would be!!!”
She and I – we – are too much alike to not be friends. If we had met in a classroom, she would be one of the ones I would want to have in my study group. She would be one of the ones I would want to meet up with for lunch after statistics. She definitely would be the one I have read over my papers and give me feedback as she is a writer of unparalleled brilliancy in her field.
We would be friends not because of our shared history, but because of the intangibles: our love of the turn of a well-crafted phrase, our love of books (non-fiction, thank you very much), our love of God, our desire to understand the deeper meanings of our daily interactions with our world, our uncanny (and sometimes troublesome) need to always know why and where is it written? In short, there is a sameness about our souls that resonates to the same frequency.
And her questioning led me to wonder about you and me. If we weren’t mother and daughter and didn’t have all this history between us, would we be friends?