Common Thread

True to my borderline OCD self, even imaginary things in my life are organized.  I have this visual image of the inner workings of my head.  I picture aisles and aisles of filing cabinets.  Each cabinet is titled with major periods of my life.  There's the one labeled "commuting" from my first job out of college when I drove 90 minutes each way to work.  Trivial memories from that time of my life are neatly filed away.  Or the "Baton Rouge" one, appropriately named for our 6-month stint in Louisiana.  Some cabinets are larger than others.  "Houston" has several sub-folders with titles like "fitness" for when I first started teaching aerobics classes and another is "hurricane" for our run-in with Mother Nature.  Other files are cross-referenced like "fitness friends" for a few good girlfriends I met while teaching fitness.  When I start drudging up old memories, I envision cob web-covered hanging files that are heavy with dust.  As the memory comes into focus, I'm mentally blowing the dust off and the rusty cogs start turning as the files are brought to the forefront.

So it was a few Friday nights ago when I ventured to the Chi Omega house at Oklahoma State University (see file "college" sub-folder "Chi-O").  Along with several of my sorority sisters, we went back to our alma mater for a brief get-together and a tour of our renovated sorority house.  Over dinner, we chatted about all that has changed since we pledged over 10 years ago.  The synapses in my brain were on over-drive keeping up with the remember-whens.  I looked at each of the amazing women and thought, "we've done pretty damn good."  I'm biased, sure, but there's no doubt that each of us has obtained success - whether through business, education, finances or family.  I was proud to be sitting with such a great group of women who I can call friends. 

Before reconnecting with these girls, I had been worried that they wouldn't accept me - that they were mad at me for not keeping in touch.  With all of the hubby's job-necessitated hopscotching across the world, I felt like I had fallen off the map, and for all intensive purposes, I had (see file "Almaty" and "Baku").  But, there were no hard feelings.  I may have drifted apart from them since our under-grad days, but our common threads and shared history will always give us a bond and launch pad for conversation.

I add this to my long wish list for Annabelle - that she too will know friendship that can withstand and flourish in spite of life's interruptions.

Chi Omega!

Watch me outgrow my rugby bear! Annabelle, Aug. 1, 2012, 5 months old.