Beach song

Six women friends and I chatter while we unload the cars for our annual beach week. Each interaction between us spins another silken thread into the web of our relationship.

This week creates thousands of new connections and each one will change me minutely. We delve a level deeper into each others' histories and find similarities, or not. Either way, more intimate knowledge of another's life helps me encourage her more aptly. 

We feast, and ever afterwards the smell of mango and crunch of jicama will remind me of the friend who prepared the delicious slaw. 

The bike racehome to beat a storm proves to us that we're stronger and faster than we thought. We laugh and dash up the house stairs as the rain pelts down.

I practice patience with my friend's precise way of doing things, and she surely has to do the same with my lackadaisical attitude. 

The web we create is also a safety net. One of our group is at home waiting for a pathology report. We join hands to pray. 

Our togetherness creates 720 possible conversation combinations. It's like an old telephone switchboard with an operator plugging and unplugging us into the partly line. As an introvert I am sometimes overwhelmed and have to unplug my line and find a quiet place alone. 

Then I return refreshed and ready to sing again from the synapse.