Dear Diary

First let me be clear. I’ve never been to Bermuda. But I have created my version of it. On our back patio. Not the patio directly behind the house. That’s the front back patio. This is an area at the very back corner of our backyard. Husband humors my craziness so there are lights everywhere, tables, rocking chairs, a firepit, surrounded by flowers when I can get them to grow – just a place to escape to when life inside my head becomes a bit too much. That happens frequently. And my friends, Maria and Teresa, enjoy visiting Bermuda as frequently as may be. I know what you’re thinking…Maria and Teresa…I’m partying in Bermuda with a couple of nuns. Nope. They’re just very real, very kind, very special women. We each have our own brand of crazy and we sometimes take it out for a spin, turn it over in our hands, laugh or cry over it.

Anyway, we sit in Bermuda for hours on an occasional Saturday and laugh like teenagers. Or maybe hyenas. And eat. And have an adult beverage. Bermuda is a wonderful place to simply let go of sadness or fear or worry. Sometimes Husband comes out and sits for a bit, smokes a cigar, has a beer. He enjoys watching and listening to us act like fools. We always request that he share the cigar and he’s a good sport. But don’t ask for his beer.

Teresa has been known to make fajitas on the firepit. Teresa can, and does, cook anything on a firepit. In the middle of a Texas summer. She amazes and frightens me! Anyone who can take the heat rolling off an open fire when it’s 110 degrees in North Texas should probably be given a wide berth but I’m not that bright and she’s alot of fun. And I’ve learned more from her about gardening, canning, and life skills than I have from Google. She rivals the seed vault with her collection of seeds. And she’s so carefree in her planting process. I fret over every variety, read about the hardiness zone, growth characteristics, the special needs of each plant, while she tosses the seeds to the ground, waves a watering can near them and watches them grow. As long as her chickens don’t find them. They’re partial to new seedlings.

Maria is a walking Franklin Covey. She takes her calendar out at the drop of a hat to verify a holiday or whether or not getting together on some particular date is a possibility. And she is always the bearer of gifts. She’s so very generous and that’s fortunate because she loves to shop. I’m ok with that because I’ve gotten some great gardening stuff. And I’m really cracking wise, because she truly is so good hearted. She’s the youngest of the three of us, and she has the kindest nature though she doesn’t want anyone to know. There’s no project, no cause that’s too big for Maria to take on. I don’t know how she manages her schedule, but there are lots of people who live better lives because of her. Fundraisers do not frighten her. She’s protected by an armor of righteousness and I’m serious when I say that God might smack down anyone who thinks of getting between her and her appointed tasks.

I laugh and make jokes about having only two friends but, it’s never been about numbers for me as far as friendships go. Quality wins over quantity every time when it comes to relationships. And true friendship is a commitment. Not one of my best things. But God smiled on me in a huge way when He opened my door and let Maria and Teresa in, so I’m not going to let Him down by not doing my share.

When Maria said she needed 9 potted plants for a gathering at her church in support of women trying to shake addiction, I walked around my collection of plants, snipping until I had the necessary number ready. When she said she needed 5 more, I made a few more trips around the yard and one to the local Ace Hardware. A few weeks later when she said they were hosting the same sort of thing for men, I laughed and picked up my snips.

Several months ago, I just happened to walk into the living room and find water dripping from my ceiling. Panic doesn’t begin to describe my reaction. It just so happened that Teresa was on her way over to pick up something. I have no idea what it was but I met her in the driveway, babbling, and dragged her up two flights of stairs to our third floor attic. The culprit was the drip pan in the a/c unit. It had fallen and, though 8 gallons of water doesn’t seem like much, to my way of thinking, it was a nightmare when it was dripping into the living room downstairs. Teresa managed to squeeze through some tight places to prop up the drain pan and that kept it from leaking until a technician came. I can call her anytime, literally, cause she rarely sleeps.

So, as we come into the holiday season, let me say that I wish you joy and contentment, love and happiness, and two friends who are even a fraction as fabulous as mine.

And may the peace of God be always with you.