I had been preparing for Linda’s visit for weeks. The guest room bed was dressed in a comforter of soft lavender in honor of the reunion of Lavender Linda and Purple Patty, nicknames that stuck for the college roommates who became forever friends.
Although the calendar would say it had been 25 years since the roomies had seen each other, our desire to remain an important part of each other’s lives, across the 3,000 miles that separated us, would tell a different story.
From the morning we met when I was trying to push my trunk into our dorm, and she gently suggested I tip it to the left, which was obvious to level-headed Linda and a mystery to less spatially attuned me, I knew this was someone I wanted as a friend.
Years later, when we shared an apartment in Greenwich Village and decided to travel to Europe together, her spatial acuity found a space for our carry-on luggage and her gentle demeanor calmed her nervous companion. Even now, when I fly, I picture her wordless smile that said, “No, Patty, the plane is not going to fall out of the sky.”
When life found Linda married and living in our home state of Virginia while I wound up writing in Southern California, we each knew what was going on in the other’s life. We crossed miles to stand up at each other’s weddings. Something lavender arrived in each of our mailboxes on birthdays. Our telephone teas became a tradition. The Baptist girl and her Jewish friend, who celebrated both Hanukkah and Christmas when they lived together, continued to acknowledge each other’s holidays and traditions.
And we held hands and hearts across miles. The night before my cancer surgery, Linda left this message on my phone.
“It has been a long time since I got down on my hands and knees and prayed, but I did it for you tonight.”
She came to California while I was recovering. We had tea at The Huntington gardens. The framed photo of the two of us is in my office. I had planned to repeat that outing during her visit. I had a list of things we would do together.
The cold and cough hit her hard the morning after she arrived. The next few days were rocky. When I caught whatever she had, all we could do was laugh. We had been through a lifetime of unexpected plan changes. We were up for the challenge.
We sat on the deck in the lavender rocking chair and picked lemons from my tree for our tea. We shared stories that only belonged to us, and we took care of each other as old friends do.
Email patriciabunin@sbcglobal.net. Follow her on Patriciabunin.com.