The Pearls Girls

This morning, I got myself all spiffied up, put on a strand of pearls, and took off for an official meeting of “The Pearls Girls.”

Somehow, through the quirkiness of life, the three of us found one another and came together as a funny little sisterhood.  We are all three very different.  We have different origins, different interests, different approaches to life.  Jamie and I are young’uns according to Jennie, but it doesn’t seem to matter.  What matters is that we have chosen to care about one another.

All of us are part of the involuntary fellowship joined when you watch a person who has been one of your anchor-points in life–who inhabits a large part of your heart, and helped to forge your soul–suffer, and succomb to a disease called cancer. 

We can all be pretty random and silly.  One of the first times I went to Jennie’s house (Jamie was along too, of course), Jenn looked at us and in her perfect hostess voice said, “Would you care for some play-dough?”  Jamie and I gratefully accepted and had a lovely visit while making snakes and balls and play-dough dogs.

Nearly the same time I met Jamie, faeries mysteriously began leaving little things on my doorstep:  flowers some days, brownies, others….  A book by an author that I’d mentioned liking.  Neither of us are strangers to the phone call that follows, “This just showed up on my doorstep–do you know anything about that?”  And generally a full confession follows.

The day I met Jennie and she found out I was pregnant, she loaded me down with fresh tomatoes and offered soup anytime I needed it.  And when Little Miss was born she was emphatic that “Auntie” be put in front of her name from that point on.

We fix one another chicken-soup when one of us is ill, we bring casseroles for major life changes and events and we can’t go too long without a phone call to say, “Are you still there?  How is your world?”

Yes we are the pearls girls, and I don’t know how I would have made it through the last two years without being part of this sisterhood.

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