The Revolving Door

Revolving doors can be a little tricky. Sometimes they are the only means of entering flashy corporate centers and elegant hotels. If you get caught staring at the scenery for too long you may miss your chance to get out of the glass cylinder. If you push too hard on the door in front of you, everyone else inside has to pick up their feet to avoid getting smashed. Its kind of like stepping onto a "down" escalator with your hands full - you have to time it perfectly. If not, it's dominoes all the way down. The more I travel the more I find myself dodging revolving doors and the contents they constantly spill onto the floor - people who are usually looking up at the ceiling or side to side, but hardly paying attention to what's right in front of them. Every once in a while a person comes out of the revolving door that you were supposed to meet. They aren't another obstacle to avoid, instead they're there to fulfill some purpose in your life. You see them for the first time and you swear you've recognized them from a distant memory. Somehow, in all of life's chaos you can find a dear friend who you feel like you've known forever. I've seen several close friends appear from and disappear into the revolving door, and I've taken a couple turns inside myself. Every time I come out I try to remember to watch out for what's in front of me, but many time's I'm caught looking right, left, up or back. Sometimes it's much easier to live in the past and try to ignore the ever encroaching and uncertain future.

Let's start with where I'm most comfortable: the past. I lived in the same house from the time I was two until I was 19-years-old. My parents still live there today. Being in one city for such a long time has allowed them to form deep, lasting relationships that span three decades. My mom did full-time day care for six children (ages 1-3) until I graduated from high school in 2001. When I was two a very special one-year-old came to our home to interview for a spot vacated by a recently "graduated" toddler. Her name was Naomi and her mom was Bonnie. After talking to my mom and watching the other children, Bonnie felt this would be a good place for her daughter. However, her husband had to give the final okay. When he came to see my house my dad happened to be there on a break from work. They realized they had known each other in elementary school and he gave Bonnie approval to bring Naomi to our home. My earliest memory is of Naomi sitting next to me on the couch. The quiet baby with chubby cheeks was looking at me with big brown eyes. During our first years together I just called her "Baby," not only because her first name was so difficult to say, but also because she was as bald as could be. When she graduated the program our moms decided to keep her on the roster and she continued coming to day care until she was 11. Their decision affected the rest of my life. Though I often terrorized Naomi when we were younger, we became best friends. To this day she is the kindest friend anyone could ask for. She was my constant during times of change as people slipped in and out of my life's revolving door.

Naomi was one grade younger than me and we went to different schools when I was in first grade. During the first week of school I met a girl named Lily. We were in the same class and one day she walked up to me on the playground and asked, "Do you want to be best friends?" I said yes. It was as simple as that. At school we were inseparable. We happened to attend the same church and our parents got to know each other a little bit. One night we had a sleepover and Lily told me she was adopted. I was very curious about the circumstances that led to her adoption but she politely informed me she didn't like to talk about it. A few years later we were attending a new school as fourth graders and Lily told me that if I met her in the library during lunch recess, she would tell me about how she was adopted. I agreed to do so and a few hours later I walked out to the playground and got swept away with the kids running for the handball court. I completely forgot about Lily. The next time I saw her she started crying and told me how I had hurt her feelings and how long she waited for me in the library. I couldn't believe I had been so stupid to forget. She told me I'd missed my chance and I regretted that day for a long, long time. A year later we were lining up outside our fifth grade classroom and I overheard one of the girls saying, "Oh Lily, I can't believe you're moving!" The words hit me like a ton of bricks. I'd never had a best friend move away. Her dad was being transferred to a city nearly three hours away and it was the worst feeling I could imagine. Lily and I had grown distant that year but I thought we would be able to reconcile in time to go to middle school together. I never got the chance to seal the rift that had formed between us. She moved a month later and left the revolving door turning in her wake.

I was beside myself when Lily moved away. Soon after her departure a new girl joined our class. She had moved from Chicago. Her name was Rosario and I wasted no time making her acquaintance. One day we were in the bathroom during recess and in the middle of our conversation I asked her if she wanted to be best friends. I think Lily must have had more tact but Rosario still agreed to my awkward proposal. The truth of it was there was a void in my heart and I was anxious to fill it. However, instead of taking the place left by Lily, a new part of my heart opened up. It was a curious sensation. Rosario, Naomi and I were able to bond together during those last years of pre-adolescence. After school the three of us would walk to Rosario's house. In her backyard we formed a secret society - The Wild Lupine Girls Club. We talked about the boys we liked and imagined adventure scenarios. We built a clubhouse in which we could only call each other my nicknames: Abe, Ro and Ouie. We were quite the trio but our bond changed when Rosario and I moved on to seventh grade and left Naomi at our elementary school. Ro and I were on our own in a whole new world: a large campus surrounded by walls scrawled with graffiti and chain link fences topped with barb wire. It was a place where your lunch money would disappear faster than a magic coin and cliques changed faster than my constantly fluctuating grades. We formed a new trio with my neighbor Enrique. Ro and Enrique's conversations in Spanish would blend with other students' chatter in various African and Asian dialects. This new place was a little scary, but facing it together made it a little easier. At the end of our first year Rosario told me terrible news. Her family was moving to a town 15 miles away. (You're probably thinking, "That's not so terrible," but keep in mind we didn't have drivers licenses or the internet. Our best chance at keeping in touch was on the phone and I'm horrible at talking on the phone.) She would be attending a new school in the fall. We wouldn't be able to experience eighth grade together, let alone our first year of high school. Again I was devastated. I didn't want her to slip through the door. We maintained contact as best we could. Our moms were great sports and often drove us to see each other. By the time we were free to drive to see each other, we had grown apart - something I'd sworn would never happen.

In high school I missed Rosario constantly, but Naomi and I were reunited when she entered ninth grade. Wherever Naomi was I felt at home. Bonnie had become a second mom to me and although the two of them had moved apartments a couple of times Bonnie always kept Naomi in my school district. I knew they'd never leave me and it brought me comfort every day. My high school years flew by and in 2001 it was time to move on to junior college. Again Naomi and I would be separated but I counted on it only being for one year. One of my friends from church was facing a similar situation. Kyla was a year older than her best friend and we were both headed to the JC to figure out majors and game plans for transferring to universities. That first year together allowed us to bond quickly as we were both missing the daily reassurance we'd had from our lifelong best friends. I thought I was too old to have another best friend but I was repeatedly proven wrong. Naomi was accepted to a university in Hawaii and despite our efforts to maintain contact over e-mail, our bond weakened. I felt guilty for growing so close to Kyla but I needed someone who was close by that I could share things with. I needed stability and a safety net. My time to leave home was quickly approaching and Kyla encouraged me to pursue my goals, even if it meant we'd be separated.

In 2003 it was finally time for me to leave home. I'd never thought the day would come when I'd leave a friend behind but I packed my things and walked through the revolving door. On the other side I was surrounded by new streets and faces. P-town was a young, happy college town bustling with excitement and social energy. I tried to assimilate but it was hard to ignore all of the things I was missing at home 800 miles away. I looked at my new surroundings as nothing more than a temporary home (after graduation I planned to promptly return to my hometown or move to a city within a comfortable driving distance). Two months after my arrival in P-town I turned 20 and celebrated with a few new friends as well as some old friends from my hometown. Kyla had moved to P-town that month and my mom sent her to my birthday party with a customized chocolate chip cake with Dream Whip frosting. I began to think this new life might be bearable. Kyla was a steadying force in months leading up to Christmas. She was willing to drive us around on days when the snow fell thick and the roads were covered in deep slush. One day we counted five accidents and seven wrecked cars on the main road. Kyla drove on fearlessly. There was just one little problem: she had a boyfriend. He was living in O-town and there was some ring shopping going on. You know, the kind of ring shopping that could only mean one thing: everything's going to change again. I tried to absorb every moment of free time with Kyla but on the morning we drove to the airport to fly home for Christmas I knew that time was almost up. They became engaged on December 30th. Kyla moved back to my hometown and was married at the end of my second semester of junior year. I had always heard that marriage spelled "doom" for friendships but she didn't allow that to happen to us.

Looking back it seems like everything moved a little faster after Kyla got married. I hurriedly finished my junior year and left on a mission to Brazil the following winter. Naomi was married a year later and I was so sad to miss her wedding. When I got back from my mission in 2006 Kyla was pregnant with her first child. Eight months later I called Naomi to tell her I got into graduate school and she had news too - she was having a baby boy. I thought it was curious that life had sped right on without me. How was it that my two closest friends were already married and having babies? Was I on the right track? I tried to not let it occupy my mind. The summer of 2007 was a whirlwind and I withdrew from my graduate program with the strangest desire to stay in P-town and actually have fun instead of studying all the time. Now, three years later, I finally see this place as my home. I no longer pretend I'm just a visitor here. Kyla still lives in California with her husband and two daughters but Naomi, her husband, and son have moved to T-town, 45 minutes north of P-town. Although I don't see her nearly as much as I should (my fault), it is very comforting to know that she is so close. Bonnie also recently moved to T-town and again I feel like I have one more family member nearby. I had lost contact with Rosario for five years but she found me on Facebook a few months ago and seeing her name in my inbox was one of the happiest moments in recent memory. I'm just waiting for the day that Lily finds me on Facebook. I search for her every once in a while but I have no idea where she is or what she's doing.

Now we've made it to the part where I'm least comfortable: the future. I'm 26-years-old and I don't really know what to think about that. 27 is up next in October and I am pretty sure I don't care that I'm single. (I "care" but I don't "care," if you know what I mean.) It would be really nice to eventually "catch up" to my friends but I guess there really is no catching up. Time seems to get tangled and accelerated amongst life's constant changes... everyone is on a different escalator, elevator, or moving sidewalk and despite my best efforts many are still managing trips through the revolving door. Years seem to fly by and although I can see my closest friends in my mind's eye we are all in different parts of life's lobby - some going up, some going down, some backwards, some back around. One day I might get up to the same floor as them, but by then we may be incredibly different people. Dear friends continue to enter and leave the lobby. Some return and some do not. I watch them come and go and wait to find one who will never leave me. Until then, I have my eye on the shiny glass revolving door framed in polished metal with an ear attuned for the slightest prompt that I should take another trip outside of my comfort zone. I know timing is everything, and for now I perform the delicate balancing act of practicing patience and taking chances. As for today... I think it's time to jump on a "down" escalator with my hands full and see what happens!