Some of the most precious things I came away with from my time in the ballet were the deep and enduring friendships I made while I was there. Like they say, misery loves company and how we loved each other. We were each other's refuge in the unending storm that is life in the ballet. As is the way of life, distance and time has put out of my mind how much my girls figured in my life as a young adult. I saw my girls through pubescence, adolescence, into early adulthood before we went our separate ways. When you live in the arts, you are at your most vulnerable. You declare your hopes and dreams every day to people by the mere act of showing up at the studio. There will be those who will try to tear you down for daring to dream. There will be people who will want to use you for their dreams. And then there will be people who will believe in you and your dreams. We were that to each other. We took care of each other's hopes and dreams. We allayed each other's fears. We provided a safe haven for anybody who needed it at any time. A midnight call to me to come over and just be there was a normal thing. And I always made it. The theme these days has been all about being reminded how much these girls have touched my life, and maybe more importantly to me, how much I have touched theirs.
First of these was of course, Bubu's decision to put me among her entourage. Probably a small, meaningless act to most of you. But throughout the years, I have seen friends get married and watched them from the sidelines because I wouldn't figure into their church weddings. For one thing, they know I practice no religion. For another, I am their friend and not the groom's. I understood that. It's a ceremony where I have no place. Their parents would be appallled. The church wouldn't have any of that. The church values appearances, propriety, tradition and our friendship doesn't mean anything to it. That's clear enough. But I did feel like the back-of-the-shelf friend. The friend you keep for dark times. The friend you keep in the dark. The friend that would go where other friends fear to tread. The friend whom you trust with your darkest days but can be put away on brighter days because you have more normal friends for those days. It made me feel just a little bit taken for granted. It made me feel relegated among the spectators, not an active participant of their joyful times. So, this act of including me in their entourage, pairing me with their best man, meant a lot to me. If it doesn't mean anything to anybody else, I'm fine with that. But to have a friend who says, I have this friend who will not make sense to you. He doesn't have to. He means a lot to me. I will not put him where he will not be comfortable. He means this much to me that I will put him among my special girls just because he's mine. No explanations needed. Deal with it. I know this wouldn't have been possible with other friends. Or other weddings. But this one small, and very beautiful wedding made it happen. I know it wasn't about me. It was still about the couple. But I was part of it. Imagine how I felt when I could hear the guests asking loudly, What the heck is a bridesmama? And then I came in with paper cut out petals. Imagine that feeling. I felt accepted. Celebrated. Included. Thank you, Bubu. vintage boho style wedding wears
Another of my girls who shall remain unnamed. because she is still going through something that shouldn't be discussed here, sought me out, sat me down, and tore out her heart for me to poke around and see what can be done to save it. As we have done countless of times. And I am glad that she still values my opinion about things. I had thought and feared we've drifted much too far for that already. I'm glad we haven't.
And then this morning, my Lukring messaged me that this note, a repost of a blog entry from so many years ago, when blogging was a thing, showed up on her timeline. I noticed nobody's liked it and she's not even tagged there. When I checked the privacy settings, I saw that it was only shared with her so that's why it showed up on her memories. She told me it made her cry and made her miss me and we talked about old times, and we agreed I could share this note again. This time publicly.
I have a few other girls whom I still have yet to reconnect with. I just hope we will still have opportunities to do that.
Vaya con dios, my darlings. Till we meet again.