Catching up, after more than 30 years, with a favourite childhood friend - Karen Corbett, has me pondering the magic of childhood friendships....Why are they so special? How are they different from adult friendships? As children, what qualities do we bring to relationships? How do we change, and how do our relationships change, with Time?
Karen was a Christmas Holiday friend, throughout my school years. For six weeks each year, during the summer school holidays, my family camped next door to her family's holiday house, and, during that time we were together for as much of the day as our generous parents allowed. My mother's rules were that I was not to go to Karen's house until Mrs Corbett opened the back door in the morning, and I was to be home before dark, for dinner. Apart from these restrictions, we moved freely and smoothly through our days, playing games, exploring, planning adventures, building cubby houses in the bush, swimming in the lake - enjoying almost total freedom.
I recall that there was a fleeting shyness at the first meeting each summer, lasting no longer than a minute or so, until some subconscious assessment was made and we were confident that nothing had changed between us. Then we settled into the easy, comfortable companionship that characterised our friendship and transported us through our summer days. We were so "in tune" that it was as though we had just one mind, with just one idea and one possible activity for the moment. There was never any conflict or resistance, no jostling for power, and no dominant personality dictating the rules. We enjoyed all the same activities in a completely non-competitive way (although it was very clear that Karen was way better at sand modelling than I was!) I'm sure there was the healthy competitiveness of trying to win particular board games, but only so far as it enhanced the enjoyment of the game.
In such a strong childhood friendship no judgements are made; there is no critical appraisal; none of the jealousy or envy that comes with competitive comparisons. As children, we were not self-consciousness about our appearance; in fact, there was no real awareness of the body at all - nor conscious appreciation of the body as a means of transport, a vehicle to enable play, as well as the carrying out of ideas and activities. Looks and body shape are simply irrelevant. There is just total acceptance of one's friend, and contentment in being together. It was not possible to be together too much; not possible to get sick of each other.
Time apart was not painful in any way, either, because there was the lingering joy of the day spent together and the happy anticipation of the same again tomorrow.
Such a friendship precludes the boredom, loneliness, lack of motivation that children can feel when they are alone. Such a friend is truly a soulmate. The joy of such a friendship endures forever, and the knowledge that we can be a true friend, and be truly valued as a friend consolidates a measure of self-esteem.
After those childhood years, our paths took their separate directions - to work, to marriage, to children, to divorce, to new relationships, to distant locations - and did not cross again, until Karen made the effort to track me down. She succeeded, after finding my sister on Facebook. We live now in different states but managed to meet while both visiting children in the UK. Our holidays overlapped by just four days, and we spent two of those days together, with Karen's husband, Bill.
This time, as adults, there was no initial shyness. Being with a true friend is like putting on a comfortable pair of slippers - it just feels good. As adults, too, there is an understanding that our circumstances make it unlikely that we'll spend much time together in the future - there are various demands on out time and energy, but perhaps we can plan a future visit to our children together and take time for an adventure or two of our own.
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