The Girls At The Lake

Got together with a couple of high school class of '70 girlfriends the other night for cookout and conversation.  It was supposed to be a communal 60th birthday party but one of our comrades in sagging arms couldn't make it, so we stashed the cake in the freezer for another day, and just got together to get together. 

It was great.  I mean great in the sense that I perceive it at 60.  It was great because we were totally relaxed with each other, and enjoyed each other's company, and laughed and remembered and talked about today, yesterday and tomorrow.  And had a few glasses of wine of course.  I have found that a glass of wine is an excellent accessory to conversation. After a couple of the aforementioned glasses of wine we were even inspired to get up from the dinner table on the patio and do the stroll when a stroll-worthy song came on the radio.  Well, we tried to do the stroll.  I confess I had forgotten exactly how it went and my version was somewhere between the Electric Slide and the Virginia Reel I think.

I thought about the whole affair later and smiled at the realization that maturity has its benefits when it comes to female friendships.  No adolescent competition or jealousy.  No  inward comparisons of each others' strengths and weaknesses in order to find our footing in the social order.  I felt no social order whatsoever.  It didn't matter who was popular, who was smart, who had the best clothes. Popular isn't even in our grown-up vocabulary any more.  It was just us.  Three friends, still friends.  Survivors of youthful foibles, failed relationships, successes, defeats, jobs, love and loss.  Three friends sitting outside on a balmy evening at the lake, just talking, just enjoying.  It was just nice. 

And that's what really made it great.