Odell Hall Gathering 2008
I have been on kind of a reading drought until recently. I mentioned that I found a J.A. Jance mystery to read at the recent coast vacation. I brought along Middlesex, a book long on my “must read” list.
Then my daughter said, “Put this on the top of your priority list” and handed me Lisa See’s Snow Flower and the Secret Fan. My daughter knows me. I love historical novels and this one did not disappoint. I want to time travel and I did. The drought ended. Each night I forced myself to put the book down or I would have met the dawn sky.
This story of ultimate friendship, a way to survive a society in which women were not highly regarded is incredible. We should all be blessed in our lives with a “laotong”, an old same or kindred spirit, or to have a group of women considered as our “sworn sisters”.
“She loved you as a laotong should for everything that you were and everything you were not.”
-Snow Flower and the Secret Fan, Lisa See
This line toward the end of the story resonated. I just had returned home from the annual college friends reunion. One of my friends remarked that we have know each other so well and can be amused by our shortcomings. And that is correct. To have a feeling that we are each loved for who we are and who we are not. That is how I would describe this group of friends.
These nine women have known me for 38 years. They have been partied to my escapades in choosing a mate (actually two husbands), my unorganized organization techniques, the deaths of my parents, the death of a marriage, and how I became a stepmother.
I, in return, have witnessed their marriages, love challenges, births, medical challenges, the deaths of parents, the untimely death of a friend’s son. We have laughed and cried and talked about everything under the sun.
Our group began meeting regularly seven years ago as we all reached the halfway point to becoming a centarian. The places vary and not all attend each year. (This year we were only five due to a wedding, remembering the loss of a child, moving, and work). It is a yearly reunion that fills me with great joy.
It is like going back to that moment in time when we first met. Indeed our hearts feel like we are those teenagers once again although sometimes our bodies say otherwise.
These are my sworn sisters, and to them I am thankful for loving me for who I am.
This line toward the end of the story resonated. I just had returned home from the annual college friends reunion. One of my friends remarked that we have know each other so well and can be amused by our shortcomings. And that is correct. To have a feeling that we are each loved for who we are and who we are not. That is how I would describe this group of friends.
These nine women have known me for 38 years. They have been partied to my escapades in choosing a mate (actually two husbands), my unorganized organization techniques, the deaths of my parents, the death of a marriage, and how I became a stepmother.
I, in return, have witnessed their marriages, love challenges, births, medical challenges, the deaths of parents, the untimely death of a friend’s son. We have laughed and cried and talked about everything under the sun.
Our group began meeting regularly seven years ago as we all reached the halfway point to becoming a centarian. The places vary and not all attend each year. (This year we were only five due to a wedding, remembering the loss of a child, moving, and work). It is a yearly reunion that fills me with great joy.
It is like going back to that moment in time when we first met. Indeed our hearts feel like we are those teenagers once again although sometimes our bodies say otherwise.
These are my sworn sisters, and to them I am thankful for loving me for who I am.
sworn sisters gather
divergent lives cross yearly
happy faces here
laughs, hugs, adventures
carry us through time
One Single Impression is featuring haiku and other poetic forms on faces this week.
