Year end Friendships ‘23

And just like that. My son is five. I was driving around this winter and was hit so hard with a realization that I had to pull over. Those holiday lights – the ones parents bundle up their kids for and drag them around in to see? The ones that as kids we could vaguely see all the time but then there was a specific time where we specifically were supposed just drive specifically to look at these? As a parent now, I see hanging lights outdoors in the cold as an overachievement - an enormous expenditure of time and resources that I simply do not have. And therefore, as dopey as this seemed when I was a child, I get it now! If someone can get lights up in addition to all the other insane things on the to-do list of being human, it’s a sight to behold! I had wrongly assumed as a child that my parents were lame. But really, they were expressing their admiration for the other families who had worked their asses off to put up decor we could all enjoy.

Then, it was followed by a second realization that had nothing to do with the first. As a child of the 80s and 90s, I always left Disney movies a bit sad and my mom would rub my back assuming I was in that magical melancholy a person has post show… But here’s what I was actually thinking. As the credits rolled, the voice that sang was definitely different from the character’s (what I know now to be the pop artist cover). At eight, I thought the princess had been fired and replaced and this made me sad because I had grown to know and like that princess and I worried about her financial future and its impact on her family. I could’ve said why I was sad and had this whole experience rectified by my mother who would’ve told me that this was simply another artist a little more radio worthy (whatever that means). But I was nervous to explain my sadness and therefore this went on for some time. Why not just speak up? I should speak up more…

I paused because things come in threes and I waited another minute, but then I got back on the road and kept driving. 

I pulled up to my son’s school to pick him up and got this anxious bubble in my stomach that I've been trying to dissect since he started Chicago Public School kindergarten… What is it? Then… boom! Number three realization hit like a truck. I had been reliving feelings from when I was a kid in elementary school. In daycare and preschool, since the parent has no conscious memories of this time, there’s not much to sort out emotionally. But now that he’s in kindergarten I worry that my kid will make friends and have someone to sit with at lunch because I was worried about that as a kid… Also, we’ve been in Chicago now for six years and because of full time jobs and two new humans being born in that time, also covid, our social circle which was big in LA, stayed tiny here. BUT NOW! As we stood on the precipice of the elementary years, I thought about what I had been told: “Elementary is where you meet lots of people and form family friends for life.” That sounded nice but also like a lot of pressure. As my son walked into school I was hoping he’d make friends and somewhere inside was hoping maybe I would too. There have been many near misses - like when we walk around our neighborhood and my slow-to-warm-up canine loving 3 year old daughter asks to pet a dog and then stands there for an eternity as she gets up the courage to move her hand. Knowing this will take a while, I try to strike a conversation but it always gets awkward as the person assures Maya that the dog is friendly. It’s hard to convince a stranger that no matter what they tell her, it would still take her at least 5 minutes to get her hand away from her side to the dog’s ear. Maybe I don’t speak up enough here either?

There was another time when at a playspace we frequent, I stood next to someone (potential friend!?) and we did that weird stretch connecting one does when wanting a friend to happen ASAP.

“Yes! We have the same birthday! Or, you know, I was due three days before you were born and was born two weeks later, but yep, totally the same! … Yes! I drank milk as a child too! And we both ate food and breathed oxygen?! What are the odds!” 

But then, after about four months, it happened. In November this year, my son’s school of 200 opened its doors to 100 refugee students and with a school that had almost no Spanish speaking adults, this was intense. Myself and two other parents in my kid’s class began offering support as much as we could. We volunteered at separate times, but knew we were not alone in the trenches of this dire situation. Occasionally we’d wave at pick up and there was an exchange of a weary and meaningful shared experience. As winter break approached, relief was in sight for both the rockstar teachers who had seen their class sizes double and the parents running over on their lunch hours and extra time to help. The three of us found ourselves on the playground on that energy charged last school day before break. It was dark as our children romped through the cold while we tugged at our coats. And suddenly we unloaded the experiences: the Spanish we were learning, and the beautiful hugs we’d shared with children who had just been through a harrowing journey to arrive here… And all the sudden one of the other women goes, “Um, do you guys, ah, want to get drinks sometime?” and I go “Yes!” because I better speak up this time! And the other goes “Sure! I don’t have any friends!” with a laugh that said ‘parenting and working are all consuming.’ At the time it was funny. But it stuck with me in a deep way. That she was vulnerable to say this, and that I finally didn’t feel alone because there were others out there who hadn’t made any new friends post children. And then there was an awkward silence and all at once we three go, “We just made friends. On the playground in dark cold winter.” 

And out of the confidence that friendship provides, I launched into a two month project with their support and wonderful cheerleading to teach a song to our 100 K-2nd graders in a school with no music (yet!) to surprise their OUTSTANDING teachers as a thank you gift two days ago. And it was awesome. And teachers cried “happy tears” in my son’s words. And kids who had been afraid to open their mouths when they arrived, were singing out. And this is what happens when friends happen. Beautiful things. The courage to try something out of the box as this song project was. And another reminder to value the lights and speak what’s true. Even if you have to wait a while for them to happen.