This month I am going to try to write five letters, one of them for each of my closest friends. Lindsay, Kerry, Mark, Diana and Christopher. These people make up the foundations of my life.
So why put it out there for everyone to see? Because other people need to know that these kinds of friendships still exist, and that they are deserving of such friendship. So, without further ado, Ms. Kerry, you are first.
So why put it out there for everyone to see? Because other people need to know that these kinds of friendships still exist, and that they are deserving of such friendship. So, without further ado, Ms. Kerry, you are first.
Kerry and I met during our first year at the University of Cape Town. We hit it off pretty much immediately, I kept her calm and she reminded me not to be so serious. Then we parted ways when we graduated. We found one another again when Kerry started lecturing at the very same college as me. It was during that time that we got really close.
Kerry has a beautiful son and a darling cuddly caveman of a boyfriend, O'Neil.
Dear Kerry,
I don’t really recall the first time we met. The memories are hazy, clouded with cigarette smoke, laughter and a general sense of shyness and disquiet. I remember wanting you to like me so badly because you were one of the cool kids at varsity, and I was on the periphery. I looked forward to seeing you everyday. We developed an easy, lacksadaisical friendship. It’s not as if we’d call each other at four in the morning to chat about the days events or anything. But I knew that when I’d get to the steps of that unforgiving campus, yours was one of the first faces I wanted to see.
Please excuse the roughness of this post. I kind of needed to get this out and I wasn’t sure that you’d be happy with me mentioning you on my blog. So I’m typing fast to drown out the guilt of doing it anyway.
Our friendship really ignited after I saw you again after quite a long time apart. During that time you’d already given birth to Tallen and I remembered thinking “Shit, I didn’t get to see her pregnant”. Oh well. :(
You pitched up at the place where I’d already started working. I felt it was kismet. I needed a friend at the time. Then I got kicked out at home for being a very naughty girl ( that’s for another post) and landed on your doorstep at I don’t know what time of the night. With black bags and clothes stuffed roughly into any hold-all I could find. O’Neil just took one look at my stuff and took it all inside while we sat on the stoep, smoked and drank strong, rapid cooling tea while I cried and cried.
I was with you in your home for a long, long time. I was broken, and you knew that, but you never questioned me or emphasised the fact. It took a long time, but I came around. I healed in your home. What is this letter about really? Not even I know. It’s a thank you. A small one that could never really cover the immensity of what you did for me. Both you and O’Neil. You are an incredible friend, and I wanted to basically shout it from the rooftops. Of the internet.
Yours,
Lauren.
Dear Kerry,
I don’t really recall the first time we met. The memories are hazy, clouded with cigarette smoke, laughter and a general sense of shyness and disquiet. I remember wanting you to like me so badly because you were one of the cool kids at varsity, and I was on the periphery. I looked forward to seeing you everyday. We developed an easy, lacksadaisical friendship. It’s not as if we’d call each other at four in the morning to chat about the days events or anything. But I knew that when I’d get to the steps of that unforgiving campus, yours was one of the first faces I wanted to see.
Please excuse the roughness of this post. I kind of needed to get this out and I wasn’t sure that you’d be happy with me mentioning you on my blog. So I’m typing fast to drown out the guilt of doing it anyway.
Our friendship really ignited after I saw you again after quite a long time apart. During that time you’d already given birth to Tallen and I remembered thinking “Shit, I didn’t get to see her pregnant”. Oh well. :(
You pitched up at the place where I’d already started working. I felt it was kismet. I needed a friend at the time. Then I got kicked out at home for being a very naughty girl ( that’s for another post) and landed on your doorstep at I don’t know what time of the night. With black bags and clothes stuffed roughly into any hold-all I could find. O’Neil just took one look at my stuff and took it all inside while we sat on the stoep, smoked and drank strong, rapid cooling tea while I cried and cried.
I was with you in your home for a long, long time. I was broken, and you knew that, but you never questioned me or emphasised the fact. It took a long time, but I came around. I healed in your home. What is this letter about really? Not even I know. It’s a thank you. A small one that could never really cover the immensity of what you did for me. Both you and O’Neil. You are an incredible friend, and I wanted to basically shout it from the rooftops. Of the internet.
Yours,
Lauren.
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