|Ripening green yellow orange and red tomatoes on every surface of our SouthEast facing bedroom.|
If I had to chose the one truly alarming Fact of Life about moving to a rural community it would be this distance from our friends. It would not be the outhouse, or the molasses-slow internet, or the complete lack of a café, or that nowhere in a 20-mile radius seems to carry the New York Times. This distance from friends is the one thing I honestly miss about living in the City.
During last night's class Rachael came over to my mat to give my stiff body an assist with a bridge. She wrapped her arms around my back and shoulders to lift me up and I was hit how unusual it is for me these days to be so close to another woman. I have Nick here to depend on, to hug, to laugh with, to fight with, to lean up against while watching a movie, to work with, to cook with, to swim with. We share nearly everything together in our new lives as farmers and I am so grateful for the way our rural life has changed our relationship. We depend on each other and know each other in a way I don't know would have been possible for us in the bustle of the City. But as much as I tease him and love him, Nick is not a substitute for a girl friend, just as I am not a substitute for a guy friend for him. Having a girl friend who is there to assist you with a yoga pose, or to skinny dip in the pond with, or to go for a hike with, or to bake a cake with, or to lie on the high field with or to simply talk to is something I need in this life. I need a girl friend. I know that sounds soooo sappy, and I don't mean for it to at all. It is a fact. I need a girl friend.
I need a girl friend who doesn't live an hour away. I want one that lives right here in my town. I want one that farms, or doesn't farm. I just want one that loves me the way my old friends love me. It is so impossibly frustrating to make friends at 28 years old in a new community. All of the women (and men) here have their own lives in full swing. They aren't looking to go to see a movie with the new girl. They aren't looking to go apple picking with me, or teach me how they grow garlic, or how to shear a sheep.
The community we have fallen into here in Vermont is beautiful. I don't wish to discount the kindness of the people in it and their warmth towards us. We have been so grateful for their Welcome. But, I miss my girl friends. I want to be able to walk the 1/4 of mile to Meghan's house right now and see her 39-week belly. I want to meet Lindsay on bikes for ice cream at our general store. I want Ayana to join me for a rainy afternoon at the Vermont Historical Society. I need Fiona there on the running trails behind the farm. I want Julie in my kitchen teaching me for the seventeenth time How to Bake Scones. I want Eve to accompany me and a bottle of wine to see a movie that nobody else wants to see at the little theater in Montpelier. I want Melissa to do my make up and hair and put on a pretty printed dress with me before going to a barn dance.
I fantasize about having my girl friends here in Vermont with me. How full life would be if I could meld the city and the country into one. I love my girl friends and I so selfishly wish I could have even just one of them here. I can't let my happiness, of course, depend on their futures. I need to create friendships with the women who live around me. I just don't know how to do it. I find myself always awkwardly bumping into a gaggle of them at farmer's market, or at the fair, or the tea house in town. We don't have much in common yet aside from gardening, so I always bring the conversation to broccoli or blight or weeds and they must think I am the most profoundly boring flatlander to ever arrive amongst their hills. Why does making friends have to become so much more difficult the older you get? I know it all takes time, that some how some day, something will bring me closer to the women around me and then poof I'll find one day that I do have girl friends here. I am merely impatient for that day and wanting one of them to stop by on this brisk fall Wednesday morning to talk and share a cuppa tea.