Thank Heaven for Second Moms

I've known my second mom most of my life.

Marie and her husband, Don, daughter, Linda (my soon-to-be-best friend) and baby son Donnie moved into the house two doors down from ours in the early 1960s. Another daughter (Donna) came along later – she was the same age my younger brother, Paul. 

All through our growing-up years, Linda and I played together. There were stretches when I teamed up with other kids in the neighborhood, but by high school, it was Linda and me. We didn't hang out at school (she was a grade behind me), but we owned the summers. We walked to McDonald's, hung out on her front porch watching boys go by or worked on our "moon tans" in her backyard pool. 

Like most moms, Marie was in the background, quietly playing a supporting role. She was always cooking or baking something amazing (food = love). I remember she'd make us caramel corn late Friday nights, and Linda and I would watch Big Chuck and Hoolihan. Marie was much younger than my mom, and her taste in music was rooted in the 1950s. (She let Linda and I play her old records.) I seldom saw her get angry (although I do remember seeing her get steamed every once in awhile). In high school, Marie was the only person I trusted to cut my hair, a task she continued to do for awhile even after I got married. 

I didn't keep in touch with Marie for many years, and Linda and I drifted apart, too. But at some point, I was visiting my Mom and walked over to say "hello." After my parents passed, I began to call her up periodically and ask if I could visit. It's only been two or three times a year, but when I'm able to visit her,  it's like wrapping a big, cozy blanket over my shoulders. 

Marie and I talk about anything and everything. I can tell her my worries, and she shares them and helps me process what's going on in my life. We can talk about politics without rancor, and between the two of us, I'm confident we could solve all the world's problems.

I went to see Marie this past Thursday, and like always, she was a balm for the soul. As a bonus, Linda called during our visit, so I got to talk to her, too.

I hope everyone has a Marie in their life. And if you do, give her (or him) a big hug for me.