By Mary Ann Ellis
Two weeks ago, Donna Boone Tindall, my best friend from high school came to visit. Donna and I had tried to get together in person for the last several months, but the Fates had been against us. We both had surgeries that spoiled our efforts. I had my foot surgery first and couldn’t walk or drive for several months. By the time she had her big surgery, I was incapacitated. Thank goodness for phones, texts, and emails. We did manage to stay in touch.
Around 11:00 a.m. on that Wednesday, Donna arrived at my door bearing gifts, which she had to open for me because I had recently broken my arm. We laughed because one of the many things we have in common is our total lack of grace/balance. Neither of us needs something to trip over. We can trip on air and land on our behinds or arms in the grass or at the bottom of a staircase. We’ve always been that way.
In five minutes we were ensconced in the recliners, talking away, making up for lost time. We’d never lost touch completely and talked now and then, but we’d been too busy with life and work to get together. When we did call each other, we usually talked for an hour or two, but it was never enough. We now had years to cover and immediately slipped back into the camaraderie that made us friends in the first place all those years ago back at Jeff Davis High School
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