She hands me a coffee. She’s frothed the milk and sprinkled cinnamon on it She gives me an eye mask and pulls the blanket up to my neck. Just close your eyes and rest honey. Your headache will go away soon. Her hair is blond and her kitchen is clean. A row of pine trees line her back yard. Her dog sits obediently in his bed. Both the dog and the bed match the room decor. Of course they do. It is dark with the mask on but I am filled with warmth and light.
26 years ago I sat at my desk plunking away at the computer keys waiting to greet the next patient. When she walked in the scent of roses and lilies filled the room and every head turned to watch her flip her thick blond hair like a wild albino horse galloping in the wind. She stopped at the desk, gave her name and then proceeded to the bathroom like she always did. Probably to tell the mirror how lucky it was. I dug in my purse under the desk for lipgloss. I ran my fingers through my hair and straightened my lab coat. Then I let the dentist know that his next patient had arrived. The other girls and I whispered about her in the back room. This woman who had come to make her presence known. To grind the dirt with her heels as a warning to women everywhere. I am alpha. I am blond, hear me roar. Her beauty was entirely threatening. Her perfect hair. Her expensive suit. Her fancy car. Even her dog was practically human, a black lab that sat under her desk at work and probably did her accounting for her. My boyfriend picks me up in his SUV. He’s taking me out for lunch. His phone rings and it’s her. The blond from the dental office. His ex. My heart sinks. She fills the car with her sweet sing song voice. She is intoxicating and I am shrinking.
I am not enough for him.
I stare out the window and imagine them getting married. Their three dogs panting at their good fortune. Did I mention she used to be a cheerleader? Now she’s a private investigator with a reputable firm downtown. And he’s? He’s dashing. The two of them might as well be the lead actors on the hit show Moonlighting. I imagine playing the part of Agnes DiPesto, the girl getting them coffee trying not to stick around long enough to see their chemistry explode in my face.
In the years that followed something happened. A wind. A shift. A whisper.
Your heart needs more.
A conversation. A letting go. Maturity. Experience. Confidence.
Me. Talking to her. My friend. The blond.
There we are on the other side of those pine trees, me and her, sipping coffee and talking about the deepest places of our hearts. About our children. About life. About The God who loves us both. A God who sees and knows and whispers, you are worthy, wanted. Mine.
It was a dream I had one night that softened me to the idea of becoming friends with her. In the dream, she was sitting on a grassy hill. Just sitting there on a warm summer day and I heard the voice of the Lord say, she belongs to me. It was comforting and confirming and when I woke up I just knew we were meant to be friends.
At the end of the weekend she helps me put my suitcase in the car along with a sign she had made for me that says “Thankful for every moment”. We hug and catch the last of the leaves that are blowing off the maple tree in her front yard. The tree now bare and exposed. Mature. Rooted deeply. Beautiful in a profound new way.