The Loss of a Friend

I was seventeen when I ended the relationship with my best friend.

I didn’t want to leave her, but I didn’t want to get caught and be embarrassed.

I had spent a lifetime protecting our closeness, and by my senior year in high school, I had perfected the art of hiding my thumb sucking.

She was in my mouth when I was going to sleep, when I was reading, when I was watching TV, or afraid, sad, upset, mad or even joyous. We were close, and I depended on that single digit to offer me comfort and companionship. After all, we had been buddies since I was a baby.

Parents of a thumb sucking child will try everything to get their kid away from this socially unacceptable habit. My parents put in a lot of effort, trying all kinds of methods that didn’t work.At some point, they realized my thumb was more important than all their endeavors could overcome, and they let me suck away.

Of course, it could be I became an expert at hiding my thumb addiction, so they didn’t see me personally interacting with that one finger.

When I went off to a private girls’ school in Mississippi to smooth out some of the rough edges many west Texas girls adopt, I knew I would need to be even more discreet while communicating with my best friend. And I was careful, hoping I wouldn’t be caught.

Having my relationship outed would be humiliating, ble embarrassing, degrading, demeaning, and would expose a part of me I didn’t want to share. It was a secret that was just mine. I knew it wasn’t ‘acceptable,’ but I remained loyal to this unexplained bond we had forged.

Alas, even deep relationships often come to an end, and ours did on the day my roomie discovered I enjoyed my thumb even when I was studying. Her laughter was loud enough to draw a crowd, exposing me to gawking, giggles, and ridicule. I’m puzzled why I was so connected to my friend and why that relationship endured. I usually don’t keep friends for 17 years, but this one was difficult to dismiss.As I stood, exposed and the object of mockery by my peers, I set my friend free to become a member of her tribe of fingers. I can’t say I have missed her companionship, but when Jack died, I tried to renew our old comforting ties, but she too had moved on. Like many of those early friendships we both had forgotten how to speak to each other.

Today, I am grateful for the friendship she gave me. She was my ‘go to’ safety blanket, reassuring, sheltering, and often healing my youthful insecurities.

Thanks, Thumb, for being there when I needed you, and not being angry when I had to let you go.