Letters to a Friend

In December of my fourth grade year, my family moved us from a suburb in Baltimore, Maryland to a tiny, backwards town in Arkansas.  I was fairly outgoing and popular back then, and left many friends behind.  But, as to be expected, because of time, distance and lifestyle (and the fact we were all 9 years old), I lost contact with all of them over a period of a few short months.

All of them save one.

My mom met Tracey’s mom when our family moved to Maryland six years prior and they became fast friends.  I was three, Tracey was two, my brother Scott was six months old and Tracey’s brother David would be born a year or so later.  Our moms did everything together, as did we kids.

After we left Maryland, our moms had me and Tracey write letters to each other.  They started out very simple and bland, something like this:

Dear Tracey, How are you doing?  I am fine.  The weather has been very hot.  School is fine.  I miss being there.  Love, Beth.

Two years after we moved, all I wanted for Christmas was to go back for a visit.  And so we did.  And Tracey and I, like our mothers, continued to write.  But of course by then, we were entering the junior high age where simply breathing becomes a major issue of angst.  Strangely, our letters had not changed much.

Dear Beth, How are you doing?  I am fine.  We had a Christmas bazaar at church and I got my parents an ornament for their present.  The weather is very cold and snowy.  Love, Tracey.

I realized I didn’t really know who Tracey was anymore.  We were worlds apart.  There came a time where I wanted to stop writing because I felt it was stupid and meaningless; but my mother insisted I continue anyway.  Apparently hers did the same.

So one day I wrote my standard letter on my standard matching stationery.  And then on a whim, I wrote another one on a piece of notebook paper and folded it up into an intricate little package.  I sent a classic junior high “note” with my letter, complete with classic junior high writing style.

Dear Tracey, We write notes like this at my school and fold them up so I wanted to write you one.  Maybe you can learn how to get it open and fold it back hahaha.  Lylas, (Love you like a sister) Beth

When Tracey’s standard letter came back to me, she had also included a note.  Her pretty matching-paper letter read the way it always did.  But the plain paper note went something like this:

Dear Beth, My mother doesn’t bother to open your notes so we can write whatever we want to.  She still reads over every letter I write so don’t ever put anything in that she can’t see.  She is getting on my nerves so badly and my dad is completely unreasonable… etc. etc.  Lylas, Tracey

And our relationship truly began.

Through our secret notes, we wrote through the good, the bad and the ugly; relationships or lack of them, school woes, ridiculous parental restrictions and rebellious moments.  Tracey and I were still writing when I went to college (but by then we are able to quit folding our letters up into little squares and triangles).  She flew down to be the maid of honor in my wedding in June 1995.  My parents and I drove up so I could be the matron of honor in her wedding in March 2001.  She and her husband drove through Arkansas on a vacation to see my family in July 2003.  Mom and I just flew up for her brother David’s wedding last weekend in October 2011.  And we are planning a summer road trip up there in a couple of years so my kids can see where I grew up, enjoy the sight of our nation’s capitol, and meet my childhood friend Tracey and her family.

Our letters have turned into infrequent yet long, rambling emails (save for the yearly Christmas and birthday cards or occasional “just because” notes that give us an excuse to mail pictures of our children). But the relationship lives on.  We are strangers in part because of time, distance and lifestyle…but that’s no different than my relationship with countless people right here in Northwest Arkansas.  We are the best of friends for the same reasons of time, distance and lifestyle…because we continue to reach out over the years with our worries, hardships, joys and victories.

If I knew I could only write one more letter to Tracey ever, it would read something like this:

Dear Tracey, I can’t believe we have made it for 34 years.  I remember swimming in your pool and thinking it was weird that you picked cherry tomatoes and ate them right off the vine.  I remember your mom cooking 4 different things for lunch every time we were over, because she always offered us 4 different choices and of course we all chose something different.  I remember bossing the boys around when we decided to play “house” or “school”.  I remember that you always chose a popsicle when I chose a fudgesicle.  I remember that you believed in Santa Clause long after I understood the reality of where Christmas presents did (or for a few years didn’t) come from.  I remember being so sad after we moved that I prayed to  God the world would end or I simply wouldn’t wake up…but I looked forward to your letters and relished that link to my past.  I remember the years you took piano but didn’t want to, and the years you took dance but your mom didn’t want you to.  I remember that your dad would only let you listen to the oldies radio station but that you would secretly listen to other stations when he wasn’t around.  I remember how relieved I was when I found out as far away as we were we were really alike in so many ways after all.  I remember how you were such a bleeding heart for animals that you took a stray cat off of my front porch in Arkansas and carried him all the way back to Maryland to live with you.  And I remember petting that cat just last weekend!  Thank you for the memories.  Thank you for being such a good friend.  For me, it’s the friendship of a lifetime.  Love you forever, Beth.

Beth and Tracey June 1995

Tracey and Beth March 2001

Tracey and Beth July 2003

Tracey and Beth October 2011