Being a writer is a lonely business, by and large.  If you are lucky enough to write full-time, your life consists of long stretches of solitary effort, populated by nothing more than the voices in your head and a persistent low-grade carpal tunnel ache.  And not that I don’t think it’s the best damn job in the world, but there are times when the presence of friends means more than words can express.

This week was one of those times.

I had surgery (never something you want to do by your lonesome) on Tuesday.  I’ll spare the gory details, but suffice it to say that Percocet is my best friend, and trying to do anything without your abdominal muscles is damn near impossible.  Add to that two small and very physically affectionate rugrats who drag their poor mother through a very active lifestyle and things get ugly.  About as ugly as all the bruising on my abdomen.

But if you’re damn lucky like me, you have a posse of angels who swoop in to your rescue.  Mr. Xandra hauled my poor, wounded carcass home and tucked me into bed to recuperate, and no sooner did he get me situated than my homegirls came to the rescue.  My son had rides to school and afternoon adventures that kept him active and occupied (and less prone to worrying about Mommy or forgetting that he couldn’t head-butt me with affection as is the norm around here).  My daughter found herself with new toys to keep her occupied.  The Girls brought me dinners and pie (pie!  pie rules!) and not a day went by without at least two calls to check and see if I needed anything from the store, or needed some company to help move around.

My mother-in-law (a voracious reader herself, and the woman who kept my kids in clean laundry, bless her) witnessed this, and asked me if I knew how much of a gift I had in these women.  I answered her truthfully - from the start of my friendships with them, there has been a genuine bond between us that has been unexpected, but not in the least unwelcome.  We are five very different women, and we’re constantly amazed at how our diverse backgrounds led us to form such a wonderful circle.  And we’re very much aware at how we really found something special.

You know who you are, ladies. But I wonder if you know how special you are to me. Even though words are my stock in trade, I have a hard time finding the right ones that can express how powerfully blessed I feel because of your friendship. If you were a bra, you’d be sold in an exclusive boutique for more money than a car, and you’d be the kind of bra a girl would wear on the outside, because she needs to share with the world how great that bra is. Jane Russell would be green with envy at the girl who wore that kinda bra.

Yeah, I know–that was demented. But heartfelt. I love you guys.

You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.