One of the greatest surprises in life is who you make a connection with and how and why that connection remains. In 7th grade, when I started at Cooper Jr. High School I met Missy Yacktman. Our elementary schools had merged and Missy and I found ourselves in many of the same classes during our first year of lockers and homerooms and dances. I have to be honest, I don't remember the first day we met or anything so dramatic. One of my first memories of Missy is sitting in the music room with our dads, who it turned out were in the same business and so knew of each other. Our families were considering sending on a study abroad trip to Russia that I think happened over spring break (it was 1990, the Soviet Union was in the midst of breaking up, and both of our families decided it wasn't the right time to go. Missy would spend quite a bit of time there 15 years later. I still haven't been).
Throughout junior high and high school, we shared a very close friendship. We passed notes and shared notebooks that we passed back and forth. We commiserated over teachers, shared stories and heartbreak about crushes and boyfriends. We spent hours and hours after school sitting at one of our houses playing video games. Missy has a large family, and I have vivid memories of playing with her little brothers, getting advice from her older sister on how to deal with mean girls, eating fried shrimp for dinner with her family, and coming over during Christmas to watch while all the kids created gingerbread houses. The day we graduated from junior high, her older brother took us to Bino's Pizzeria in his convertible. These are the kinds of seemingly meaningless moments, the nooks and crannies of life where romances bloom and friendships are sealed. Missy – and her family – always channeled love and caring.
Like most friendships formed at age 13, ours has expanded and contracted over the years. Our paths diverged during college but my senior year she visited over my birthday, at the very end of the school year, reminding me by way of explanation that she had promised to come visit while I was there. After that, we kept in touch but it was halfhearted. Our lives were so different, our paths so divergent. Still, as we pursued our dreams in different arenas and on opposite coasts, it was nice to know I always had someone to call, someone who had known me in the 7th grade. And somehow we both felt this way. Unlike so many friendships that simply wane as years pass, ours seemed to sit patiently on the back burner, waiting.
But around 2007/08, circumstances brought us back together. Missy had moved east, and we finally found ourselves back in the same domain. Within a year both of us were pregnant and our boys would be born within a few months of each other. Now one of my clearest memories is visiting New York when my son was just 6 weeks old, and seeing our boys discover one another and seal a second generation of friendship.
Missy is one of those people who is just inspiring to be around. When Mark first met her, he said she lights up a room. She is a natural dancer and yoga expert but without the cloying airs that often come with that. She so embodies a sense of positivity that sometimes you wonder if she's wearing a halo – but just until she swears and you realize she's human, and breathe a sigh of relief. Today when I need someone to listen (actually listen) to whatever is gnawing at me, to set me straight but a keen understanding of who I was 25 years ago and how that has shaped me, there is only one person I call.
Thank you, Mis, for your kindness and friendship and for all the light you, and your family, bring to my life.
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