Ribbons

There was once a moment in time when we were a posse.

Not blood related, nor truthfully bosom childhood friends. We hadn’t known each others husbands, significant others or lovers.

We were bound together by proximity, a chance of fate and/or our children.

And so as our summers waned, and autumn cast its shadow on our once predictable world, we clung to each other for companionship. Thus, a posse was formed.

It worked quite well, As the seasons slowly and quietly changed, we broke bread and munched poppy seed bagels on Monday mornings with conversations once tentative now interrupted only with laughter,

Slowly but ever so surely the ribbon of friendship grew stronger, When the inevitable time to disband appeared, the laughter grew softer and the comfort of the warm bagels took on a new importance.

I was the first to leave. Lured to another state with an unexpected invitation to join a child’s world. A blessing I could not resist.

Joan was next but headed south only at the insistence of a wise daughter whose fears about her Mother’s health would soon prove valid.

Mary, Hilda and Jane remained in their homes, and the posse slowly lost its intrigue when Jane unexpectedly booked passage on Charon’s ferry.

Now without the lure of poppy seed bagels or freshly baked bread, we, who are left, meet with the beauty of the internet and email.

It is not quite the same and the laughter not nearly as loud. However, the bonds of friendship are perhaps even stronger as we remember other Monday mornings when we shared louder laughter and occasional tears always laced tightly with ribbons of love.