Shari was a pal. A work buddy. A lunch companion.
I admired Shari’s go-get-’em attitude. She worked hard and stayed cheerful. Most of the time.
She trained horses, barrel raced on a quarter horse and handled farm chores as well as full-time work. She knew what was important to her. Didn’t mess with distractions. Stayed on target.
But when her marital relationship hit the rocks, she suddenly became confused. Trying to make sense of what was happening. Wondering what to do next. Whether to try to make it work or walk away.
That’s understandable. Most of us have been through those gut-wrenching times.
Her cheerful personality nose-dived into complaining and questioning and self-doubt. Even self-pity.
All of us gathered around her in support. But it became difficult when weeks turned into months. All of us were weary of hearing the daily tales of woe.
One day at lunch, I gave her a little wooden box. She was delighted. A surprise present! What could it be? A special candy? A piece of jewelry? A homemade cookie or brownie?
Nope.
It was a note that I had written her. Something that I thought that she needed to hear.
“Happiness is your own responsibility.”
Oh my. You could have heard a pin drop. Dead silence. Her face turned bright red. She closed the box with a snap. Tight lipped.
Not at all happy in that moment.
I did not apologize because I knew that I had spoken the truth.
And she didn’t speak to me for a month. Even though we sat at the same lunch table. I was invisible.
But it didn’t destroy our friendship.
Know what? Years later I was invited to an Open House when she and her new husband bought a house in the country. (With room for horses, of course.) She had a new baby and her life had changed for the better.
She showed me that little box I had given her…on the nightstand by her bed. Told me that she treasured my message. My gift.And that it was her favorite present
Wacky Kids Writer 