Women and Friendship : Coming Home

Every Woman Has a Story: Many Voices, Many Lessons, Many Lives
by Daryl Ott Underhill

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Jennifer Fales

My mother, my sister, and I are, at times, as different as the seasons. There are years between us, the many experiences of adulthood that we have not shared together, and other differing emotions and opinions to separate us. Some time ago, my mother developed lupus, which, although it is a grief commonly shared among the family, is her own private struggle. My sister is discovering the wild, wonderful world of teaching budding adolescents, which is an experience I can only briefly remember from the viewpoint of a former adolescent. As for myself, I have been selling auto parts for the past six years, meanwhile writing in every spare moment and hoping desperately for some golden opportunity to drop into my lap out of the cheery blue sky. You may have guessed by now that I'm the hopeless dreamer of the family, always busy watching life pass me by.

This past January, I visited my mother and sister, who now conveniently live about an hour apart, for a few days, and I learned something about myself in the process. There is a tiny little corner of me that has always been terrified of family. It has something to do with the powerful bond, the intimacy that is demanded. As a child, I was always afraid of being swallowed up into this great big entity and never being able to find myself again. I struggled hard to find a voice to separate myself, creating wonderful imaginary worlds. Even now, I find myself drawn into daydreams, like exotic quicksand. I hate to admit this, but I'm just not as fond of the real world as some people think I should be. However, on my visit, I rediscovered that my real-world family can be fantastic, and they might even help heal some old wounds if I let them.

There is something about my sister that automatically brings out the silliness in me. I had almost forgotten it until I saw that old familiar face, more like my own than any other. There are five years between us, but they don't make a bit of difference now. It's almost like being reunited with myself, because no thoughts expressed between us are incomprehensible, no jokes ever hang in the air like an albatross. For once, I never have to worry about feeling stupid for making some arbitrary comment. It is the equivalent of pure, creative freedom.

For some reason, I have always viewed Paula as the perfect, logical daughter. She was better at math, her organizational skills were existent as opposed to mine, and she always managed to come out on top. I cannot begin to tell you how happy I was to see her apartment. It was, of course, very tastefully decorated, much more so than the hodgepodge I call home, but it looked like someone really lived there. There were no plastic covers on the furniture. Dishes lay in the sink, books sat on the floor, and there were papers strewn across the dining room table. God had just handed me a present, complete with bows and wrapping paper. I could barely contain my excitement.

We talked about a lot of things, especially our dreams. Both of us want so much more out of life than we'll probably ever find. Our childhoods were more violent than most, and we've always wondered how we might have turned out under different circumstances. Still, the human soul is a funny thing. Hardships tend to make it blossom and increase its strength. I think we both believe it was worth it to have had the kind of life that we experienced because it made us the women we are today. Well maybe not all the experiences, but we could be so much less than what we have become.

Our mother is such an extraordinary woman. She has had a life riddled with hardships, but she never gives up. There are times when I've wanted to sit with her and ask her how she does it, what keeps her going, but I don't think she likes to dwell on it much. When my sister and I walked through the door, her face lit up. She was so happy to have her two girls together again. I think it helped her in some small way, and us, as well.

The last evening we spent together, we were all sitting on the couch, talking, and it occurred to me how much I had taken for granted. Our lives were all so fragile, so transitory. How often had I overlooked them over the years, these two women who were so very precious to me? Suddenly, I had been initiated into this sacred sisterhood. We were women, we were family, and, together, we were home.

Jennifer shares her home with her two dogs, four cats, and "a wonderful man." Reflecting on her relationship with her mother and sister, she became aware of the strong connection they shared as women, and the significance of their friendship. "As I grow older and wiser, I am fortunate enough to realize how dear and precious family truly is."

© 1999 by Daryl Ott Underhill

About the Author

Daryl is originally from the San Francisco Bay Area, and from a very early age found people and their stories intriguing. Facing her life each day with the motto that your "attitude is everthing" she wanted to find a way to share this with others, and this is the heart and soul of the book. Her brothers believe it is her tenacity and search for answers that makes her successful and led her to creating the Every Woman projects. Lori, her sister, will tell you Daryl has a unique talent to get people to talk, she asks the right questions, and then she really listens.