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 I
just returned from another totally soul-renewing gal trip.
This time it was two days in Fort Myers in a simply gorgeous
four-bedroom, well-appointed condo. The first group, Katie,
Colleen and Cindy, arrived on Thursday, hailing from three
corners of the Midwest: Michigan, Chicago and Minneapolis.
Each left dreary weather and young families behind them, so
the getaway was much appreciated. They loaded up at the local
market, making menus for fun breakfasts and lunches at ‘home,’
aka, on the balcony, with a beach drink.
Cyndy and I arrived Friday, blackberries in one hand, sunscreen
in the other. Susan, our quintessential single gal on the
go, was able to sneak away for a whole 24-hour period between
Saturday and Sunday. The night before her arrival, we were
panicked by the hurricane-level rains and winds. Even in this
day and age, Susan loves almost nothing as much as dear old
‘Sol,’ and anything short of 58 and blindingly sunny
would be a colossal letdown for our très busy friend.
By day, we shivered by the pool, each to her own sunscreen-and-lycra-bathing-suit
schedule. Getting cleaned up for dinner was quick—with
no significant others in the picture, we got out of the house
at warp speed. We basked in the good service of professionals
who whipped up fresh risotto with salmon and simmering steamed
clams with butter. We caught up on lots of old laughs, and
teased each other about those humorous little faults we had
all come to know and love.
Our reminiscing transitioned to deeper and more relevant
conversations about the cogs in each of our busy life wheels.
As—dare I say—very young middle-aged women, we each
bear a full load of responsibilities, and truthfully, a two-day
girls’ trip was seemingly extravagant, bordering on unnecessary.
But the not-to-miss secret is that there is still a lot of
group love and appreciation among us. The connections we share
extend farther back that all of our husbands, and many of
our current challenges. The similarities and differences of
our lives today are bonded by the same carefree past we shared
some years ago, elbows at the rail of the local haunt, ballparks
and beer gardens, tawdry tales of heart woes and mornings
after. Even Spring Break fares to Florida couldn’t keep
any of us from taking this trip!
We first came together as a group on a trip to Paris in 1993.
Half of us didn’t even know the other half at the airport
gate, and we silently sized each other mercilessly. It was
my first venture overseas, and I was never so excited or nervous
as I was when my first official passport arrived to my small
two-room apartment with a view. I would subsequently fill
up that passport before it finally retired, and looking back,
many of those stamps were also on girlfriend trips. But starting
from Gate C at O’Hare airport that fateful May afternoon,
I was hooked. New adventures, wonderful girls, gut-busting
laughs, this was the life for me! To this day, we are the
funniest people we know, and we went out of our way on that
fateful first Parisian adventure to prove it at every patisserie
or boulangerie sur l’avenue!
While in Paris, we stole French beer glasses and ashtrays,
clanking down the streets from bars we were kicked out of,
of course all the while emphatically denying any wrong-doing.
We stayed up until four am every night, our sober states long
behind us hours earlier. “Two doubles” meant two
cot-sized beds and a bathroom down the hall, so we knew things
about each other that I don’t think to this day I know
about my husband. Someone didn’t make it home one night,
but had quite the French glow the next day. Anything goes.
Our mantra was, “Believe me now, I’ll tell you later.”
I still don’t really know what that means, but it always
makes me smile.
We did nothing for the reputation of all Americans traveling
to France…we were ugly in every possible way. Bright
yellow Gap slickers with bright white sneakers…fits of
laughter at pre-eminent historical and cultural attractions…and
picking through fresh fruits and baked goods at the outdoor
market, waving our francs wildly and negotiating for mini-baguettes
like we were bartering on the floor at the Merc. We squeezed
six adult women into small mini-Cooper-sized taxis because
we were too cheap to get two. We climbed to the top on Notre
Dame Cathedral and trailed to the bottom of the dank Catacombs.
We left no stone unturned, and have the photos to prove it.
Fast forward fifteen years, we just returned from Fort Myers.
We relived that regrettable defamation of all future American
travelers to the City of Lights, and the many other adventures
that have bonded us since. We relived our kid-like appreciation
for the experiences and the offerings of world around us.
We cemented life-long friendships that to this day still provide
each of us encouragement, a safe sharing of ideas and fears,
and of course belly-aching laughs that seem too few in an
age of constant responsibilities, tenuous schedules, illness,
death, job insecurities and middle-age spread.
I just got an email from little Katie, our lovely friend
and hostess, thanking all of us for taking the time to get
together:
I sincerely
appreciate you all making the haul. What an awesome time I
had, and I realize more than ever how special each of you
are. I am truly blessed to have you all as friends. Our door
is always open. Someone may be back sooner than originally
planned, looking at the clothes they left in the closet. Let
me know where to send them, or shall I keep them in the back
of the closet until our next reunion?
I wish I could say those clothes were mine, I am already
booking our next gals trip in my heart.
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