Everyone Needs Someone to Ring Their Doorbell...

As an only child that always wished brothers and sisters (older brothers to be precise) were a part of my life, I realize being an “only” was a station assigned to ensure I became the little bit of crazy that I am.

I had no choice but to step outside of me, my thoughts, heck, even my room, to create a world filled with family that was beyond blood. I had to learn to walk up to strangers with a false confidence that led many to believe I was strong, independent and a little bit invincible. A few besties along the way; secrets, sleepovers, hours-long phone conversations on a rotary phone. Sharing dresses for high school dances, french braiding each others hair and laying by the pool.

In college, new friends came along in the form of dorm hallmates and roommates, sorority sisters and first apartments, holding hair back while worshiping the porcelain throne, deep conversations from what we thought was a grown up way of thinking and questioning our futures.

Time to move on again leads to change again and the friendships dissolve, at least in the see you everyday sort of way. And then, if you’re like me, you made the mistake of letting careers and husbands and kids and home buying and grown up problems like layoffs and death take precedence.

Instead of turning toward the family I had been so good about creating, I retreated into the crab shell I carried. And now, that those kids are needing me less, career is on the right path and life has shown that one ugly event leads to another, I see that I need the friends I let depression and life run away from me as if those things were contagious.

I now look at friendships like they are the fountain of youth. Girlfriends of all ages gathering around cups of coffee, sporting big sun hats, screaming their head off at Charger games, fussing at each others kids, wiping tears, joining each other at doctor appointments. I don’t have that. I feel like a little kid watching everyone else play outside, while I’m stuck peering through the sheer curtains wishing someone would ring my doorbell. In all the ways I have grown up, I regressed in terms of the true realness that is that first introduction, “Hi, my name is Carol. You wanna play?”

The lesson, remember not only to play, but to be sure you have someone to play with you. Old is hard enough, but old and alone just plain sucks.