Mushrooms and Friendship

Hadley wrote this to her friend Maya and asked me to mail it to her.  My first thought was to pray that her mom wouldn’t think we were complete weirdos.  I imagined the two of them sitting down together to read a note from Hadley, and the strange look that would surely come across their faces as they learn she is writing to tell Maya about the fungus that is growing outside our building.

My second thought was that I had recently wrote on a friend’s Facebook wall, “Happy Birthday!  I wish we could take a walk around Reed’s Lake and look at the leaves.”  Another friend saw my note and added, “And then get coffee at Cava House.”

It’s clear that Maya and Hadley prefer digging up worms and discussing mushrooms over tall glasses of chocolate milk, but maybe that’s how a friendship starts: not confessing our darkest secrets, but by sharing a scene in the world together.  Maybe that way it’s easier when the more challenging parts of friendship come about.

I think so.

 

Last week when I picked Hadley up from school, before her teacher could shut the door, Hadley was sobbing.  I’m sure I’ve said Hadley rarely cries, but it bares being repeated because when she does, I know it is serious.

She was crying because after lunch, several kids left the classroom to do an extra-curricular activity that Jesse and I chose not to sign her up for.  We chose not to sign her up for it because it ran into Harper’s nap time and I wasn’t sure how to manage picking Hadley up (apparently it’s a big “no-no” to just leave a kid sleeping in your home while you leave the house).  Hadley was inconsolable.

Until Maya started talking.

“Hadley, but I’m still here!  I don’t go with those guys!”

She continues, “Hadley, when I have the hiccups, my daddy goes, ‘Boo!’ and surprises me so I forget about the hiccups and that’s what I’m going to do to you.  Are you ready? …..BOO!”

Harper bursts into laughter and Hadley giggles a little, and then says, “Well, Maya.  I’m not crying anymore but I’m still sad.”

I think what she meant is, it worked.  Because we can still be sad, but isn’t it nice to have a friend who can make us laugh through the sadness?  Somebody who can share a new scene with you and acknowledge its beauty but at the same time listen as you talk about the Chicago skyline, or an orange tree in your yard that provided you with fresh squeezed juice in the morning, or the Illinois farmland you grew up in?

I sent the letter.  A couple days later, Hadley received a cut out heart with her name on it.

That seems about right.