Intertwined...

 My first memory of Jamie involves lunch at a long table in our high school cafeteria. I don't remember what I ate, but I recall loving the days I got to eat lunch with Jamie. She was one of the girls that knew everyone in our class and got along with all of them. Known for her infectious smile and loud laugh, everyone liked her. 

After graduation, we lost touch for a while. I knew she'd married, lived on Cape Cod, and had two daughters. Eventually, we found each other on Facebook and got caught up. That was nice. Then Flirt had her last puppy, Boone, and Jamie told me they were looking for a new dog to love. Soon it was all arranged, and Jamie and her sweet husband Harry came to Maine to take their new puppy home. With that event, we not only became reacquainted but also "dog in-laws." And we've seen each other every year since. 

Last week Jamie and her daughter Aimee, along with dogs Boone and Ella, came and spent a few days in their camper, which they parked jauntily in our front yard. It was fun to have them here. I groomed the dogs up, the ladies did a little exploring of the area. Once again I sat happily across the table from Jamie to share a meal. It's safe to say it was tastier than whatever they were serving in high school back then.

The weather was ridiculously hot, and Jaime kindly French braided my hair to help me stay cooler. 

46 years after we met, here we are, giggling girlfriends, braiding hair, and chatting up a storm. Still intertwined, despite the passage of so much time.

In this picture I am holding Flirt, Jamie is holding Boone. We were all happy to just be together.

Aimee was not to be outdone in the niceness department. She gifted me with a beautiful sweater she made. The pattern is called "Love Note," and it was knit in an unbelievably soft mohair blend. Last night we went to a party. The air was a little chilly, and I was delighted to don my new sweater. It was cozy as can be, and everyone that saw me complimented it. I made them all pat it so they could fully appreciate how luscious it feels. The gift of a hand-knit sweater seems simply over the top to me. All the creativity and artistry and kindness imbued in every loopy, woven stitch. It seems impossible that I should own such a wonderous thing, but I do, and it warms me in more ways than one.                                     

                                              

And then they packed up the dogs and charming trailer, and headed home, leaving a weave of happy memories behind.