Make New Friends

As the priest welcomed everyone to the rehearsal, I noticed her sitting alone in a pew.  

I knew she must have also been a wife or girlfriend of a groomsman because she was trying- just as hard as I was- to not look awkward, alone, in the back of the church.

The fact that she didn’t have a technicolor tissue paper bouquet like the bridesmaids did also helped.

I sat down in her pew, leaving a good four-invisible-people-buffer between us and gave her a quick smile.  She leaned over and whispered, “Hey.  Which one’s yours?” pointing up at all the guys.

“The tall one, third from the right.  Adam.” 

“Mine’s Adam too!” she exclaimed and she scooted a little closer down the pew, “He’s behind the best man.  He grew up with the Bradley.”

I glanced up at the guys and nodded.

“I’m Allison.  How does your Adam know Bradley?”

“They were fraternity brothers at Purdue.  I’m Claire,” I said reaching out my hand to shake hers.

“You went to Purdue?  Me too! Where do you live now?” she asked.

I hesitated.  

Adam and I were getting married later that month and I had just moved in with him earlier that week.

This was the first time I would tell someone where I lived… and I wasn’t sure I was ready to claim it.  The town was so small and rural.  It was so different than where I grew up.

And, to be completely honest, I was a little embarrassed by it.

At 23, I thought I would be in LA or Chicago. Not in a town with a population smaller than the number of students in my high school. Not in a town that had a weird name and an even weirder pronunciation.

“Oh, it’s a really small town…”

She nodded with a warm smile pushing me to get past my vagueness.

“It’s, um, called Russiaville. It’s near Kokomo,” I said with my voice trailing off as if this was a question, because it kind of was. She probably didn’t even know where Kokomo, the next largest town, was.

Her eyes got wide.

“Seriously?”

I winced.  She knew Kokomo. And, in 2011, Kokomo was far from cosmopolitan.  In fact, thanks to the recession, some argued that it was dying.  As a mid twenties girl who loved amazing food, unique shopping, and culture it somedays felt like the worst place I could be.

“I grew up in Kokomo and literally just moved back.”

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I didn’t think I needed a new friend at that point in my life.  

I had many friends from growing up and college.  With texting and social media it was easy to keep up. Plus, my job had me traveling often. I would be in Chicago and Indy all the time.

So, while I thought I had lost something in the sense of shopping and restaurants with my move to Kokomo, I figured I was good on friendship.  Plus, at 23, making a new friend seemed like something that just wouldn’t happen anymore.

That was until I met Allison.

She became my newest friend.  My new, everyday friend. 

We got dinner the week after the wedding.  That dinner that turned into another.  Then, into pedicures and double dates with our Adam’s on the weekends.  We met up after work for workouts and/or drinks.  We planned weekend trips and tailgates at Purdue.  She became friends with my friends.  I got to know her parents.  

In this season, my job was cut and, together, we dreamed of business ideas over margaritas. My first thoughts of entrepreneurship being a possibility were with her. She also reintroduced me to volunteer work thanks to her connections in the community, showing me people and parts of Kokomo that were inspiring… and thriving.

A year later, Allison’s Adam proposed.  We talked about wedding dresses side by side on treadmills and swapped Pinterest ideas at work.  She even asked me to be a part of her wedding.  It was an honor and a joy to have that backstage pass to her wedding weekend.  I cried at her rehearsal and celebrated when we woke up to snow on the big day. (The Pinterest inspired wish we both had for her December wedding.)

All the while, I couldn’t help but think how absolutely crazy that we didn’t do this for my wedding. She was not even at my wedding. I did not even know her yet. Crazy.

Soon after they were married, jobs called Allison and Adam away from the city that I just had started feeling comfortable calling “home.”  

Many thanks to my newest friend, Allison.

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We did what friends who live hours away do.  Texted noteworthy updates, but not everyday details.  Sent Christmas cards.  Celebrated at baby showers.  But, unfortunately for that time, life and distance got in the way.  We didn’t even see each other when our sons were born.

Three years later, just as both our sons approached their birthdays, Allison announced they bought a fixer upper and they were moving home.

I was thrilled and immediately booked her for lunch.  I could not wait to see her.  We agreed to bring our (little) boys, too.

Driving to the restaurant, I had a lot on my mind.  

It had been a while.  Would we still connect?  What if too much time had passed? We didn’t have a longtime foundation of friendship. We didn’t know each other with braces or in Prom dresses.  Would we be able to pick up where we left off?

And, a little guilt washed over me too. Had I not made enough of an effort when they lived further away?  

I was nervous.

But, I also had more than butterflies in my stomach.  

Just two weeks before I had learned that I was expecting another baby.  It was a little surprising, but so wonderful and exciting.  

It was early, though. And I wondered, “Should I share this with her?”

At lunch, passerby’s awe’ed at our boys, Theo and Hank, as they munched on torn up pieces of grilled cheese.  One cute older couple commented that they could pass as brothers with their matching blonde curls.  

Allison and I ordered salads and I asked about their new home.  They were living with her parents for the time being.  She shared that it was a blessing, but it wasn’t always easy.

It was even harder because just a week before she had a miscarriage.

My heart fell to my stomach.

And, my mind raced.

There were so many things I could say.  Should say. But, no one knows what to say when they hear this news. 

I listened as she shared when the baby would have been- should have been- due date. She told me about the procedures and conversations with her kind doctor.

I listened, but also tried to sort though the many thoughts in my own mind. Do I tell her? Do I let her do the math when I start sharing this news in a month or two? What is best? Is that worse?

And, then she shared how it surprised her how sad it made her.

She shared her truth with me.  She deserved the same from me.

I knew my news would hurt her.  But, I knew it would hurt her to keep this from her, only to find out later and through a happy social media post.

I told her.

I told her I was sad too because I was pregnant. What a fun time it would have been to be pregnant together. To have babies weeks apart and be on maternity leave together. I was so sad for her and Adam and Hank. For the baby that wouldn’t get to experience this amazing family. I was sad too.

I spun my wheels for weeks after that lunch questioning if it was the right call or if I shouldn’t have said anything.  

Fortunately for me, Allison loved me through it.  We stepped right back into our friendship.  Our everyday friendship. 

But, thanks to motherhood and that lunch where we shared more of ourselves that we ever had, we also stepped into something more.

We made play dates and took the boys to get doughnuts on Saturday mornings.  I helped to host Hank’s birthday party since their house was down to the studs.  She babysat for Theo.  Her family visited us at the Farmer’s Market.   She connected with my friends to make my 30th birthday a great celebration.  I added her to the list of people who can pick Theo up from daycare in case of an emergency. 

And, then one weeknight late in the summer, we were invited to their newly finished home for dinner.  

As the Adam’s started up the grill, I asked Allison to show me around.  On the tour, after seeing all the great work they did to the master bedroom, she stopped in a doorway of the extra room upstairs and said, “And, this is the nursery.”

I looked at the room, complete with crib and changing table, and then back at my friend.  

The room was ready to go.

I was a little confused, but also hopeful. I reached out from my own growing belly, grabbed her arm and whispered, “Are you pregnant?”

She nodded as a smile crept onto her face.  

I looked back at the sweet room, then at my friend and leapt into her arms for a hug.  There in that embrace, I said a silent prayer for the baby that would call this room their own.  

As her healthy pregnancy progressed and I neared my due date she sent me a text.  

An everyday text.

“Cute story- Adam and I were talking with Hank about the baby.  We asked if he thought it would be a sister or a brother.  He said, ‘a baby brother.’  Then without missing a beat, ‘Like Theo, Mommy.  Just like Theo.’”

An everyday text, from my everyday friend. 

My newest friend.  

A friend that I came into my life when I needed one the most.  Even when I didn’t think I needed one.

A friend who helped me make my home, my home.

A friend to walk alongside in motherhood.  

And maybe best of all, a friend that has given my son a friend.

His first friend.

An everyday friend.

A friend that will be his oldest friend.

Because, I now know you are never too young- or old- to make a friend.