Wednesday, October 6, 2010

#12. Know your friends family tree

Ever become such good friends with someone their house becomes an open door policy – even if it is their parent’s house? At some points in your youth you saw their parents more than you saw your own? The phrase ‘run to the Hills’ is exactly what happened every time I was happy, sad, or needed to escape.


Once after saying goodbye to my high school boyfriend (he was moving away for university), instead of driving home and crying all night, I drove to my best friends as I knew it would be comforting, and entertaining, and they wouldn’t let me wallow in self-pity. I’m pretty sure I stayed a few days.

As I would never have to knock at their house (if I did, I’d probably be made fun of), I’d always wander through the garage where her dad would always be working on his air boat or lawn mower, or anything else mechanical. If he wasn’t in the garage you knew a Red Wings game had to be on, and there you could find him on the couch making ‘doo-doo-doo’ noises that could be heard clear across the neighbourhood. He was always smiling, and you couldn't help but be in a better mood around him.

Her mom would let us take over her kitchen at all times when we decided we needed to make taco dip or whatever else we wanted to make at all hours of the day/night. She always had a place for me at the dinner table, and didn’t bat an eye when I’d show up and stay for a few days. She would sit and listen to all of our crazy stories and roll her eyes at us, but always handed us the keys to a vehicle so we could keep going.

Her sisters (one older, one younger), aided in our adventures. One was very much Martha Stewart-ish, the other was a free spirit. The friends of the sisters somewhat overlapped so the house was often a popular place to be. Numerous nights of euchre in high school were played at their kitchen table. After my next major break up a few years later while living in TO, I again ran for the Hills – and ended up crying on the older sister’s couch. She gave me the support my best friend couldn’t due to distance, and helped me back up onto my feet again. Of course, I still ended up back on my best friends couch in the city I decided to move back to.

The extended family I have met over the years. Amazing fish frys at her grandparents, the chlorine in her aunt’s pool giving my hair a greenish tinge, and her uncle always at Tim Horton’s. I have heard stories from numerous family Christmas’ or weddings. When she mentions a relative I know exactly where they are and what part of the family they belong to.

You’ll notice that most of this is written past tense. It is only because my best friend and I haven’t lived in our home town for 10 years, so I only now maybe visit her parent’s house once per year, if even that. Life gets too busy, and there is never enough time. As much as I don’t see them anymore, I still feel very much a part of them as I get updates on them daily. And if life ever hands it to me and I’m back in my home town, I know I am always welcome to run to the Hills.

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