Make New Friends but Keep the Old (One is Silver and the Other Gold) (And Happy Anniversary, Julie and Charlie)

We used to sing a song in Girl Scouts “Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other gold.” It’s funny how a lyric floats back to us decades later, simply because we stumbled on a photo that brought memories of so many friendships to mind.

Some friendships are gone but not forgotten. Others, good riddance, and others still, we cherish. The new and the old.

Sometimes, we’re lucky enough to meet people we’re able to share our deepest laughter and sorrows with. They’ve seen us at our most neurotic. They’ve witnessed our bravest moments of walking toward and of walking away.

We’ve been there for theirs, too. For break-ups, and spontaneous scuba diving in Turks and Caicos. We’ve driven to another state to pack them up, along with their things. Helped them file a restraining order.

They’ve been confidants and conspirators.

We’ve seen births, and deaths, and all of the between moments with them. They’ve held our hair while we vomited, and held our hands when we needed them steadied.

Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold.

New Friends

I’ve met women amazing and pure. Powerful and vulnerable.

I cherish them. They feel like family and it’s hard to imagine not being able to text saying “Can I run something by you?” In real life friends. Online friends. I love them.

I don’t know how I’d have navigated motherhood without these new friends. I don’t know how I’d have navigated myself without these new friends.

Old Friends

While I’m so very grateful for my courageous and real friends I’ve only found in recent months and years, this particular blog post is about old friends.

About two old friends, specifically.

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When I was hovering between 17 and 18 years old, I took a flight from Denver to San Francisco to start a life of independence paid for by my parents.

College.

I boarded with a rose in hand and tears in my eyes (omg how cliche is that??!!!).

I’d sat in non-smoking because my dad was listening when they asked. Julie sat in smoking, because that’s where the cool kids sat. Back then, people smoked on airplanes. I know.

Julie and I caught one another’s eye because we’d both been admiring the same boy.

On landing, young women held signs saying “Mills College,” and we both went. Later, the Fruck, and a walk of shame.

Julie’s sister Sara visited a couple months later, and the three of us have been best friends since.

A road trip when we asked for Vampires to come to us. Peed in a Graveyard (but not on graves because duh).

Graduation and then, roommates.

Star Trek watchers.

Sign language singers. The stuff of youth that glues us to one another’s forevers in spite of missed moments and missed phone calls.

Life watchers and keepers.

***

Julie got married on the day between The Ides of March and St. Paddy’s Day. Her sister Sara and I were her co maids of honor.

Or, more appropriate to the time, her Co-Maids-of-Ho. We wore matching pantsuits and braids, and because Sara had broken her arm and had an ugly cast, we both used the fabric left over from braid bows to cover her cast, and put a matching fabric ribbon on my twin arm.

I was never offended when people thought that the three of us were sisters.

We were sisters. We are sisters.

Happy Anniversary, Julie and Charlie, and Happy Co-Maids-of-Ho to us, Sara.

(I’m sisters with my new friends, too. You know who you are. Thank you for you.)

***

This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday post, in its new format where each week is the same but different. This week, we’re sharing a photo and the story behind it. Happy to host along with my co-host Kenya G. Johnson from Sporadically Yours!

Join us for next week’s 5th Friday easy peasy prompt where we share something previously written.