Stuck on memory lane

When I was in middle school there weren't any kids in my neighborhood and my parents had opted for me to attend a school outside of our district. So, most of my friends were either in my Girl Scout troop or at my church. (Proximity and convenience tend to dictate who you meet and mingle with at that age.)

"Penny" was active in both groups, so we became close friends and spent a lot of time together. She had been adopted by her aunt and uncle a few years prior and they had moved to our community. She was sort of the new kid on the block, so to speak.

Penny and I were very different. Her family had worked very hard to be traditional and live out the American dream. They had color televisions in every room. They had a new house in a new subdivision and outside was parked a new car. They took a vacation each year and stayed in a hotel. They weren't wealthy, just trying to have more than they came from. My family had a different definition of the American dream, very unlike that of Penny's. Neither was wrong, neither was right, they just weren't the same.

Penny's goal in life was to meet a man and have babies. It was what she talked about when we were only 12 years old. In fact, it was her focus all through high school. My sophomore year she began to see her dream realized, or so she thought. By then we had become even more different. I had begun gathering honors sure to get me into college and Penny was honing her flirting skills. I had always kept a little distance between us because whenever I was with her, I was always on the verge of something bad; being somewhere I shouldn't be, being around someone I shouldn't be around or a situation I didn't need to be in. I escaped unscathed, but only because I was a chicken and maybe a little more discerning and aware than love-blinded Penny.

That year we both met our high school sweethearts who also ended up being best friends and related. I got lucky, I got the good one. She, on the other hand, ended up with exactly what she had worked for. My relationship was very stable and healthy. Hers was tumultuous and rocky. I spent less and less time with Penny as she was focussed on her new found love and her goal to maneuver him into marriage. I developed other interests and new friends, Penny developed her relationship.

Needless to say, two weeks after our high school graduations, the love of her life dumped her. While my guy and I were heading to college, she was heading into a horrific relationship and a lifestyle that was sure to end in heartache and disaster. There was no stopping it. I didn't have the skills or the know-how. It just was what it was.

I went away that fall and saw very little of Penny. She kept in touch occasionally, but not often. I heard about her when I came home for holidays. She had become pregnant and was abandoned. And then she was no longer a blip on anyone's screen. I never knew what happened.

After college and an amicable break-up with my high school sweetheart, I was in my first job when I heard from her again. She was expecting her second child. She was homeless, she was again abandoned and she was desperate. I visited her at a home for unwed mothers and took her out to eat. We talked a while and I wasn't sure what to do for her. I prayed. I hoped. But she was soon gone again.

I hadn't heard from Penny since. Not a word. It's been nearly 12 years. Then, yesterday she called my parents' house looking for me. My mother passed along the message. And I called her. She was in town visiting her youngest child's father and wondered if I'd want to get together. I have to admit that I was hesitant. I wasn't sure who she was with and was even more leery of her motives. I'm not sure why.

However, I did want to see her. I did want to know she was well and safe, so I agreed to meet Penny at a McDonald's near our house. Flooding all over town had limited our options and this was as good a stop as any.

When I got there I wondered if I'd even recognize her and my mind raced as to where she had been for 10 years, what she had been doing and where life had taken her. When she walked in I recognized her instantly. She was a thinner, much older version of her high school self. Her hair had darkened, her jaw was more pronounced and she was so very thin. Her son, now nearly 17, was with her. He was strong and tall and rough around the edges.

We hugged and I could feel how small she had become. We were only a few months apart in age, but life had worn on her.

We talked for several hours, catching up on where we'd been and where we were going. Her life, apparently, is on the upswing with a new marriage, a home of her own and healthy children. She'd finally freed herself of living via welfare. It is all still a struggle for her and I could see that so clearly in her face and hear it in her voice.

Penny admitted to reliving high school over and over and over again, in a way that I know drags her down and keeps her stuck in the past. She said that the break-up with her high school sweetheart had sent her reeling for nearly 10 years, which was unimagineable to me.

She was treated unkindly by classmates, something I had never fully realized, as we attended different schools. She had been that one girl in your class that everyone made fun of, picked at and shot down. Her self esteem had been shattered at an age where we are all so vulnerable and easily molded. Where as I had blended into the fabric of my school, she had somehow stood out as an outcast in hers. I suspect her friendships outside of that venue were perhaps her saving grace, but in all honesty, there was very little saving done.

Penny remembered clearly things I had long forgotten. She had also painted a much prettier picture of some of the incidents than I recalled. Maybe that is what makes it all a little easier and less painful.

As she talked of big plans and big dreams, I hoped for her that they all came true. I hoped that she'd always have safety, peace and someone to love her. I hoped that it wouldn't be 10 more years before I saw her again and even if it was rare, that we'd keep in touch.

I was reminded how the decisions we make shape our lives. I had wished that somehow she could have avoided some of the pain in her life. I wished that others had been kinder to her, that she had been surrounded by supporters, not nay-sayers. I was reminded of how lucky I am, how blessed and easy my life has been in comparison. I never wanted for shelter or food. I never wanted for love or support. It's all she ever wanted.

We parted with me holding a small yellow piece of paper. On it was written her contact information. I vowed to keep in touch and certainly will try, but I fear she will slip away again, just as she slipped away from all of us so many years ago.