On the other side of the same town, life was overflowing with activities all my own. As the single mother of two little boys, my days were busy from morning until night. 30 years of age, I’d decided that after one marriage failed, I’d choose single for the rest of my life. After all, I had a complete set of dishes, my own house, kids, and car.
At my parents insistence, a college degree was completed, for which I am eternally grateful. I’d never seen myself as a professional working woman, but rather a stay at home mom. For some years, that had worked. But, with the devastation of my own divorce, it was necessary to bring in money to run my household.
With that need, I started a little business all my own. I was a Domestic Diva of the best kind, with no job being too small or too big. I had two clients that provided my bread and butter. One was a lovely, childless elderly couple. They needed someone to help with many daily tasks which they were too old or wealthy to do themselves. For them, I worked three mornings a week. The other was a well established professional who needed a wife’s organizational skills. His left him due to infidelity, so I was hired to show up daily and arrange the details of his crazy life.
The rest of my days were back-filled with weekly clients needing this or that. From wedding centerpieces to weekly cleaning, I found jobs that needed doing and I did them for hire. Referring to my paychecks as DUSTY MONEY, I bought a new car and a tumble down house. Those days were not only packed with insane schedules, but, with love and laughter. The boys and I created our own little world.
A very busy beauty, I never realized I was attractive. I hadn’t time to even glance at a mirror during those long days. With all the activity, I was in great shape, being spunky and trim at 5’5″. Sometimes cleaning three houses a day, the activity of my life kept me in tip top shape. My heart was a lonely place, but I didn’t have time to sit and ponder this. By the my head hit the pillow at night, I was fast asleep.
Divorce had left me devastated emotionally and financially. Trust escaped me, as the people who should have been trustworthy weren’t. As a farm girl of the 70’s, professions were limited. Women were just entering the work force, with nursing and teaching two good options. These choices requiring additional schooling, current skills were put to good use, while I made a pretty decent living.
Weekends were saved for rest and time with my boys. When the boys went for visitations with their father, I had a little time for myself. Being particular in how it was spent, I often went out to dinner with CC or just enjoyed the quiet. Life was busy and good. Was I using my brain in the way my parents had hoped? No. But, when life throws lemons your way, make a margarita. I found employment that gave me mom time, working well for my little family.
Of all the friends in my life, one I’ve known the longest. We met as toddlers in her driveway. I remember our mothers, just young women themselves, introducing us. Her blonde curls, high in pony tails, fascinated me. My hair was the exact opposite, stubbornly straight and strong willed. I loved her curls immediately, and she soon became my bestie, attending school together from K – 12.
One August day, Bestie Friend, phoned with news she found to be the most exciting.
“September 5th. D & D Ranch. $25.00 pp. 1972-1973 High School Reuinion. Dinner and Barn Dance. Country Western Theme. YeeHaa!”
Imagine the flutter in my heart. NOT. My mind raced through the reasons why this would not be happening. Central Valley Heat. Outside. Bugs. Mosquitos. Boring. Too expensive. Country Western Music. Too tired. Not my thing. Just a no.
Girl speak followed. I agreed that I would go with Bestie Friend. I wouldn’t go happily. I would need to spend my limited Dusty Money funds on a new outfit, shoes included. I didn’t want to go. I was sure it would be lost hours of my life I could never get back. I grumbled. I mumbled. I shopped. I bought angry red high heels to wear on my feet. A sign to anyone looking that I was an explosive hot mess. I would go for Bestie Friend. Enough said.
Now, the very weirdness of this entire situation must be explained. If you read yesterday’s blog, you remember PA. PA had gone to school with Bestie Friend and I, K-12. He was annoying. A boy. An annoying boy. A neighbor boy. So, all four of us knew each other, but had not maintained a close friendship through the years after school ended. We were all planning to attend the reunion, two of us not knowing how our lives would change within just a few weeks.
And so, the days went by, until September 5th arrived. And with that I leave you to ponder just what might happen next.
To be continued………..