I’m having some ‘me time’ at the moment, which I’m truly cherishing. I’m having the obligatory panicky moments, but I’m trying to find an hour a day where I just relax – I’m trying to finish a book I’ve started over a month ago, I’m painting my toe-nails (currently I have a quirky banana-yellow colour, which I’m loving!!), I’ve booked a mud treatment and a hot stone massage which I’m very excited about, and I’m lying in bed and thinking of times past.
The last two weeks I’ve met up with my closest friends – my true closest friends. They’re the friends whom I’ve known since I was still an 8-9 year old, taking the minibus to go to school, sharing stickers our mothers would buy us, and playing together during breaks. They’re the ones I’ve shared classes with in secondary schools, with whom I’ve shared secrets of all sorts, with whom I’ve fought and made up and who have all contributed in some way or another to the person I am now. They’re the ones I hung out with when we discovered the excitement of going out, of having the first drink, the first kiss, the first hangover and the first tears shed when our hearts were broken and we’d swear that we’d never ever love again. And these three friends are my true friends, the ones who I know have my back, whom I can meet after weeks of not seeing them, and spend hours just talking and falling back into the comfortable routine of true friendship. Two of them are married, one has an adorable baby boy and the other one is single and lives the glamorous life in Malta. Meetings with The Mother are usually lunches and coffee, discussing times gone by and sharing with me the joys and sometimes hardship of being a mother and trying to re-enter the work force. She is the oldest friend of the bunch. We met when she had emigrated here and came into my class, 2 years after I had emigrated here, and that made us bond immediately. I introduced her to her now husband when we were in Malta studying, and she and another friend of ours were the ones who made A and myself meet! I find that really sweet 🙂
The second friend is the Married and Working Friend – the one who lived down my street. The one who I’d pass for, every single day, to go to church together, to go for hikes and walks together, who helped, when we were 15 years old, in organizing disco parties at the village hall. I shared with her my first crushes, I know about her first kiss and she knows mine. We’d hang out as teenagers, lying to our parents and covering each other’s back when we got caught. We spent some time apart, but when we re-met, it was as if that never happened. She’s now working on the island, has a lovely husband who I know respects her and loves her, and I love them both. They invite me to their place for BBQs and dinners when A isn’t here. We all hang out together and it’s comfortable and lovely company.
The third one is the Single and Glamorous Friend. She lived up from my street and though lives in Malta now, we try and make it a point to meet. Meeting her takes me back to the times I was single, and through her tales of love/hate/tears/first date excitement and the lot, I relive the era. She’s the one who is always wearing the latest must-have accessory, who is always polished and elegant, who has short hair one day and long hair the next. She’s the one who tried all the latest diets, beauty fads and everything else. And though her exterior might fool you, she’s the one with the kindest heart, the one who so-sweetly still makes me white figolli every Easter, because she knows I love white chocolate, and includes a box of liquorice sweets with every gift, because they’re my favourite. She’s the one I love sharing a bottle of wine with, the one who somehow knows the contact number of anyone I may need, and the one who is honest and tells you as it is.
I feel lucky and blessed and hope that I mean even a fraction to them as much as they mean to me 🙂