T.G.I.F.

It’s become our weekly ritual.


Each Friday afternoon my closest colleagues and I slip away from school for about 45 minutes for a quick lunch. I look forward to these lunches all week, and not simply because I love to eat. These lunches are often the highlight of my week because the conversation is just as delicious as the chicken roll ups at Zoe’s and much more nourishing than the burgers at Marilyn’s Deli’s and Dogs.


You might assume the girls in my grub and gab fest are 20-something black women, but you’d be wrong. The ladies I can’t wait to hang out with each Friday are white and in their 40s and 50s. When we go out I notice people staring. I look out of place. I’m sure folks wonder what I have in common with these women or are surprised when they see I’m having such a good time. 


A couple of weeks ago one of the women told me she really appreciated that I hang out with them and don’t consider them too old or uncool. I just smiled. She has no idea how grateful I am that they spend time with me.


I cherish these lunches because I learn so much from these women and not simply because they are amazing and experienced educators. Yes, they have plenty to teach me about our field, but they also teach me about life. I can talk to them about life with lupus, about a disagreement I’ve had with my husband or my mother, or about how I’m struggling with the decision of whether or not I want to be a mother. I can talk to them about almost anything and trust that their advice is coming from a place of wisdom because they’ve been there, done that.


And you’d be amazed by how much we have in common. Last week one of my pals and I had lunch just the two of us and during our conversation we discovered that even though we grew up in different generations both our childhoods were colored by very similar family dysfunctions. But the talk wasn’t a painful one to have. It strengthened our bond and ended in laughter and the joy and relief that comes with realizing you’re not alone. 


These ladies also get me excited about growing older. There’s one woman in particular, we’ll call her Madeline, who is especially inspiring. She’s in her 50s (she even taught me when I was a student at the school), but doesn’t look a day over 40. She’s beautiful, smart, and funny. She’s a loving mother and an amazing teacher. She’s divorced but she’s certainly not sitting around sulking over this. She’s busy living a full and happy life. The thing about her that I admire most, however, is her confidence and it’s this confidence that I pray I acquire as I enter my 30s and continue to blossom in my 40s. And I hope that when I’m her age some confused 20-something girl struggling to find herself will say I made her look forward to growing older too.