Shiprock Sistas

“There is nothing better than a friend, unless it is a friend with chocolate.” Linda Grayson

 Our U-Haul, brakes red hot from the winding roads near Vail, rolled into Peregrine on a hot day in August of 2008. Long accustomed to moving (11 times in our 19 year marriage), I should have been past the jitters that accompany relocating to a new place. 

But I wasn’t. Even after I’d made the beds and stocked the fridge, I remained on edge.  Perhaps it was the Rocky Mountain air or my oscillating pregnancy hormones (I was eight months pregnant with our third child). In either case, I was worried about our new neighborhood. Had we moved to the right place?

Children (and dogs) have a sixth sense for idle rumination. Mine tend to make loud interjections whenever I am irritable, stressed or lost in thought. As if on cue, while I percolated with worries from the doorway of our new home, my five year old daughter appeared at my elbow. Hopping impatiently, she begged with eager eyes and the wide open, fearless heart of a child, “Can I go find some new friends, mommy?”  

Hesitating, I offered a mother’s prayer. “Let this new neighborhood be safe and full of kindness. Help my children find friends, Lord. And if you’re not too busy, would you mind throwing in a few for me? I hate being lonely, and I’m worried this time around.”

Fast forward six years. The baby, born healthy, will turn six in September. Peregrine is now my home. When I walk these streets, I pass the houses of my friends. Friends who are as dear to me as any I’ve known. Had I understood the caliber of friendships I’d form, I would reach back in time and give myself a little light slap, just to short circuit my fretting. So much wasted energy in hindsight. But I won’t beat myself up too much. Retrospect allows us to relabel worries, then file them away in their proper place- a drawer called, “Silly In Retrospect”.  

My children have grown up riding bicycles, drawing with chalk and eating dripping red popsicles in the Colorado sun while I work from my driveway. Whenever we go for walks, we naturally head towards Shiprock Way. Perhaps God, in answer to that one long ago prayer for the blessing of friends, set my GPS for Shiprock. Or maybe I got very, very lucky. In either case, on one of our walks, I spotted a beautiful neighbor who was also new to Peregrine. She was confident and friendly, and as I passed she called out, “Hey, I just moved here and I have two boys!”  She was so friendly that when she invited me to a “girls get-together” later that evening, I tamped down my introvert’s automatic refusal (“Tonight? I have to wash my hair. Maybe another time?”) and accepted her kind invitation. 

 Later that evening, walking towards an unfamiliar house on Shiprock, I hesitated and almost turned back. Would these ladies like me? Sporting a post-pregnancy belly and feeling less than fabulous, I pushed past my insecurity and knocked on the door. Immediately, I wondered what fresh hell I had gotten myself into. The hostess (and her home) were so impeccably gorgeous I suppressed a groan. As I descended the stairs into the basement, I spied seven beautiful women holding glasses of pineapple infused vodka. Clearly, I was invited to the wrong party (as I was standing there in sweatpants, clutching a bag of corn chips).

How I wish I hadn’t wasted my time worrying. About my looks. Whether I’d find acceptance with this amazing group of women. Because that night, eight women from different walks of life, each with distinctive stories, challenges and dreams, would coalesce to form a true sisterhood. 

Still, that first evening, I was convinced I didn’t belong. Most of the group had known each other for years. I tried my best to wriggle my way out of the group as the hostess called for our first official “meeting” and portrait. But she, a renowned photographer (who shall rename nameless, but whose heart covers the whole of Peregrine) wasn’t having it, and insisted I did belonged as much as anyone. The eight of us, she said, would form a new kind of sisterhood. We’d support each other. We’d be there to listen when marriages circled the drain, or when children spread their wings and left the nest. We’d cheer the loudest when one of our little band of friends got married, changed course, found happiness, accomplished a dream, won an award or beat the odds. We’d get together to laugh, dream, complain, support each other, cry, drink wine and snack on really good cheese. Someone would always bring chocolate. You could count on that.

 A few days later, there was a quiet tapping on my door. Dressed in sweatpants, not wanting to reveal the chaotic state of my house, I nevertheless answered the bell and found the siren from our first meeting standing on my porch in stilettos, flawless as always. Wearing a huge smile on her face, she handed me a magnet, which spelled out  Shiprock Sistas, and hugged me tightly. She’d taken pictures of each one of us, bending our bodies into silhouettes to form each letter. It was final. We were a sisterhood. And sisterhoods aren’t your average girls night out group.

Our name means something different to each of us. But when we speak it, we know it means support. Hot meals when a husband hovers near death in the hospital. Notes of encouragement when life seems to be cracking at its seams. The word defines friendship in a way most of us have never known, but can be summed up as triumphant and strong. 

The Shiprock Sistas don’t see each other often, but for six years, we’ve celebrated each other’s birthdays. We hug and talk, catching up right wherever we left off, no matter how much time has passed. Women with a true bond, like the Sistas, know time is irrelevant. The eight of us worked hard to form a seamless net, designed to outlast any storm, trial or unraveling force that comes our way. We are there to catch each other, and offer grace if another stumbles. The Shiprock Sistas are silent beacons of support in this once unfamiliar home of mine. In the night, in crisis or times of celebration- we formed an unlikely bond six years ago, but I am confident that our sisterhood will grow stronger in the years to come because love lies at the foundation of our bonds.  That foundation formed here, in Peregrine. The Shiprock Sistas.

* I hope you've enjoyed this essay. I very much thrive on connecting with readers through comments and messages, so please let me know what you think.  Comment, vote and above all, please keep reading! It gives me hope and keeps me writing! :)