B E B E R E

Where Do We Come From? What Are We? Where Are We Going?

Yesterday afternoon, I had a wonderful surprise: a dear friend of mine, Fub*, whom I'd not seen in a while came into town with her two daughters to have lunch. Of course, lunch is a bit of a deal when you have two toddlers in tow, so mon heure du déjeuner turned into a good chunk of the afternoon.

Brought them into the office to see another friend (actually, the father of Fub's oldest friend) and to get a notion of where I work. Catching up having been accomplished and approval for my office surroundings having been granted, we headed up the street to the old standby, the S & S deli.

The girls, Leelee and Lou, (aged 3 and 5), were typical exuberant toddlers once they got used to me again. They were, for the most part, very well behaved and a joy to be around. Now, I must say that I'm not a huge kid-person (most likely to my overexposure to the semi-domesticated Cantabrigian beasts who don't actually 'run amok,' but 'express themselves'), so this is a fair bit of praise indeed. I can't imagine sitting for anyone but these girls (and little Bonnie out west), they're just so wonderful. Mom had them wearing matching dresses that she'd made herself, as well, so they looked the part they were playing (charming). After ordering lunch (a plate of blueberry pancakes and chocolate milk for the girls, the quiche special and caffeinated beverages for us), and getting the girls settled down, we set about the task of catching up.

Lots of water under the bridge over the past couple years, on both sides: sickness, deaths, money issues, bouts of depression. Questions on career aspirations and matters of self actualization. Relationship questions. You name it, we discussed it. Gosh darnit, it felt so good talking to one of my oldest friends here again after such a long period of radio silence! Fub is a hero of mine, too: she's made a very successful tranfer from what she studied (French Literature and Psychology) to what she currently does now (Statistical Analysis). I feel as though I've been sort of clumsily following in her footsteps over the past 8-9 years and really wanted to pick her brains on what she did to get where she is now.

Though her relationship isn't always roses and parades (what one is?), I really hold her and Chum's partnership up as a standard. A pretty high one, too, to be sure, and perhaps something that may well finish my ruin if my mothers' relations haven't done the job completely.

When lunch was done, we went across the street for dessert at Christina's, possibly the best ice cream in the world. Fub ended up with the hit of the day: the white chocolate with peanut butter cup. Lou had ordered it but ended up not liking it, so of course it became Mom's. In solidarity, I ordered the same thing. The girls had cookie dough. While we were sitting on the benches, swinging our feet, dripping dessert all over, laughing like old kids (vielles filles? -snort), a snippet of an old song came to mind:

And you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack
And you may find yourself in another part of the world
And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile
And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful
wife
And you may ask yourself-Well...How did I get here?

How on earth did we get here? Goodness. Fub got to Inman Square from her place of origins with an older model Volvo, which I walked them all to afterwards in an effort to prolong the visit. Lots of hugs were passed around and we made promises to see each other again when we both got back from vacation at the end of August. Or at least to attempt the targeted quarterly visits. It's not difficult for me to get to where she is at all, though I don't drive. I should make a more concerted effort.

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*Fub is like Bebere - it's the pronunciation of our names by people from far away.