Sister Alice knew us well. We were not troublemakers, exactly. But she could sense enough that our inseparable nature meant trouble for her. From the moment we met, we clung to one another, like we were safely home. We were peanut butter and jelly or cheese and wine; better together. Instinctively we knew what the other was thinking. There were three of us. We laughed at everything and cried at things that seemed hugely important at the time. For the nearly 40 years since we met, (God, has it seriously been that long?), we are still the very best of friends.
As girls in boarding school so often do, we found ourselves left unaccompanied in a dorm, trying our best not to cry, and to be brave. Suitcases were neatly pushed under beds and uniforms were hung in wardrobes. Worrying needlessly about how to fasten our school ties and doubtful about which color blouse was for which day, we were dreadfully alone. As I recall, the prefect of the dormitory threw a few cursory glances our way, and made us feel welcome with a quick smile.
An Unshakable Bond
It wasn’t until after the first class on Monday morning that we talked. Her name was Annmarie and she had made friends earlier that day with another girl named Dilly. Inadvertently, this made Dilly my friend, too. It was that simple. These girls helped me through so many of life’s struggles. We watched one another diligently throughout our five years of living together in close quarters. There were many moments when we argued, fought, and made up words to Deep Inside the Forest, (Grizzly Adams theme song), and were stronger for it.
Good Times & Bad
We unfailingly curbed laughter at Mass, sometimes uncontrollably so. At times, it was so unruly that we needed to excuse ourselves, providing the obligatory “tummy cramps” story for Sister Margaret. Attending Mass through Irish, English, and Latin was mandatory, so it was only natural that whenever someone mentioned the words, “forever and ever” in an otherwise normal conversation,we would automatically follow up with “Amen”! We put toothpaste under our tongues to ensure a high temperature to avoid school tests the following day. Continuously, we empathized with each other about how our knees were “crippled” from kneeling for a solid hour during the nightly rosary. We belted out songs uproariously in the rec room, and carelessly interrupted study times with our Christy Moore renditions that carried throughout the hallways.
On a weekly visit to an older nun, we encouraged her to tell us, yet again, how a brown paper bag was a good reproductive barrier, and smiled at her delicious ignorance that didn’t do any harm to anyone. We chain-smoked in the bicycle shed, and went green with the fumes, and relished in how grown up we looked. One time, Sister Stephanie complained about us being too “ wrapped up” in ourselves. “Look at you,” she said once out of sheer frustration, “The pair of ye!” So even though there are three of us, we became a ”pair” there and then.
Heartbreakingly, too, we helplessly looked on as we each were insulted bitterly by the cruel nuns and hit frequently across legs, backs, and even faces. They couldn’t break us though. We knew that. And so did they.
The people I have met throughout my lifetime have been a reflection of either Dilly or Annmarie. They are either one or the other. Based on their personalities, I have developed a “Dilly and Annmarie” litmus test. A “Dilly” is a highly intelligent being, with a self-deprecating sense of humor. This, paired with a flush of overpowering empathy, she exudes “good human”. An “Annmarie” is generally a good-natured country girl, completely unaware of her beauty and power over anything with a heartbeat. A natural flirt with a wicked sense of humor, she heaved me into a scaffolding I never fully deserved. My enduring friendships are still strong because they are either a Dilly or an Annmarie.
Since leaving school, we each went our separate ways to different colleges, studying varying disciplines. But throughout all of that, we kept in touch. We visited on weekends and got familiar with our established new worlds. Our babies grew up around the same time, and we now reminisce about how little they once were. More so though, we can go back further, for we have known each other for longer than we have not. So even though we are unrelated, we are blood. Sisters of circumstance.
Forever
For years it has been like this, and I cannot see it changing. It’s seldom that we get together, and oftentimes it is on the phone, via Whatsapp or Instant Messaging. But when we do, it’s like we are sitting at the edge of that bed in boarding school, and just being 13 again. We don’t feel the need to catch up incessantly about what we are doing in life or what the kids are at. Instead, we are just us. Three kids in the world. The best of friends. The pair of us. Forever and ever-Amen.
