Friday, December 28, 2007


Back in June I saw Evening, and the scene that is still stuck in my brain is when an old friend crawled into bed with her dying friend. I remember wondering if I'd ever get over my intimacy issues enough to allow someone other than, other than ...uhhh, one of my kids to climb into bed with me. (Not that any of them has ever laid next to me in years, with the exception of that time last month when Clint showed compassion and calmed his basketcase of a mom.)

Anyway, there was something so tender about that scene. Something so nice. Something so normal? Is it normal? Cuz it looked normal. In that girls-having-a-sleepover kind of way. 'cept, I can't remember doing any of those sleepovers.

I think maybe I wasted my teenaged years.
My favorite person to be with from the time I was 15 was my boyfriend. I didn't have sleepover-type girlfriends. Hence, no sleepovers. Isn't that sad? A tragedy really. No late night gab sessions. No skinny dipping in the creek. No painting each other's toenails. No giggling at dumb movie lines. (I'm watching Notting Hill. "I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her." Gag.) No baring one's soul to someone who totally gets your pain.

Why am I thinking of this now?
Because of Grey's Academy. I LOVE the way Meredith's friends climb into her bed when they are hurting. I love that she has a huge bed and they all wear pajamas. I love that they love each other. I love it. I love that she has a house filled with people who like each other. And that they share things.

A part of me wants that. That ease with friendships. That ability to be intimate in a non-sexual way with friends. That gift that allows you to give and receive love without being all freaky-outy. That house filled with people who like each other.

And then there's the part of me that is Neumann. And Mennonite. And self-reliant. And insecure. And private. And worried about snoring. And panicked about allowing someone to see the imperfections, the wrinkles, the bumps and lumps, the scars and the moles.

I'm 46 years old and have so much to learn about relationships.


Tricia said...

Sarah, (Ellies mom,) and I still have sleepovers. We would have her, Ellie, Jessica, Megan and myself, all in my bed, watching tv and drinking coffee into the wee hours of the morning. We spent a lot of time in my bed, even during the day, just chatting and hanging out.( I do have some friends who won't even sit on my bed and think the bedroom is some sacred place for husbands only.) I think things might have been different for you if you had daughters. If you ever visit me, we will sit in my bed and watch Greys Anatomy and have Cocoa the house boy bring us tea. (But I'll let you sleeo in the guest room.)

Christine Lindsay said...

And then there's people like me who are just like you. Luv ya, but it never invades my sleeping space, or yours. I think in my case it's the stiff upper lip British part of me. Or it could be the innumerable hangups that come from being Irish too. A twisted personality to be sure.