Look Through My Window

My good friend Eileen is scheduled for surgery next week.
It's sort of weird to say that.
We haven't seen each other since her wedding day a million years ago - maybe once after. Our lives just sort of went off in their own directions, but I still consider her my good friend. Intermittent conversation, short-hand at catching up and keeping up. This is how we've been for more than 10 years.
But still, she's my good friend. I'd let her live on my couch and I'm fairly sure if I showed up at her house, she'd let me live on hers.

I was thinking, when I got the brief note from her today talking about some of her projects plus the "oh I'm having surgery on Day X", about one of my sharpest memories of her and I together.

We were both on the Speech Team in High School (YEAH WE WERE SMART GIRLS LEAVE ME ALONE - WE WERE ALSO TOTALLY CUTE DAMMIT!). One Saturday morning I didn't wake up in time so the notorious Speech Bus came screeching over TO MY HOUSE to pick me up. Because God knows that the world might've not survived if it missed our Dramatic Duo presentation of Lysistrata.

Regardless, I pulled on some neon socks, loafers, jeans and a lovely neon shirt to match (these things all looked great in 1984 I assure you) - and went running out the door to get on the bus.

I plopped down on the seat next to her, and she raised one eyebrow at me. "You look like SHIT! Let me fix your makeup."

So I leaned back against the back of the seat in front of me, while she painted me up. Powder, eye makeup, blush, lips, the works. Then she pulled out her butane powered curling iron and fixed my hair.

When we were done, I opened my eyes (I might've dozed off during this process, I'm not sure either way.) There were several sets of male eyes watching us, fascinated.

The first boy says."That was the most amazing demonstration of trust I have ever seen between two girls."

The second said."I just thought it was hot."

I think they might both have been right.