Lilianna (Part One)

Today I feel like paying some homage to a very important friend of mine.

As with many things I just “feel like” doing, there's a lot of back story to what's motivating me to act on my instinct. The simple version, in this case, goes something like this:

After I wrote the post on jealousy, about a week ago, I was thinking I should follow up my theoretical discussion with a bit of documentary, some actual footage (in the form of journal entries) of my own experiences of acute jealousy. I've been completely incapacitated by jealousy twice in my life: the first time was when my boyfriend Scott began dating Chani, and the second was when my husband Parker fell in love with Lilianna.

Before I could follow up on my plan to re-visit past jealousies, I happened to get a call from Lilianna, who was having kind of a hard day. We had a great conversation, which is pretty much the norm with us, and I hung up the phone feeling very grateful for our friendship – and in truth, a little awed by how lucky we are to love each other so much. I was reminded of a conversation she and I had several years ago, in which we came to the conclusion that there are real advantages to working though jealousy.

Probably my greatest reward for working through my own jealousy about Lilianna has been Lilianna herself. She's had a huge influence on my life, so much so that I can't imagine what my life would be like if I'd never met her, how different I would be.

So, although I was completely at a loss about how to do her justice, I decided I would write my next entry on Lilianna. A few evenings ago, Parker and I had our “date night” together, which often means that we go for a walk, fix a drink, then sit outside and talk. I had my notebook and pen all ready: I wanted him to help me brainstorm a list of all the things we appreciate about Lilianna. (There's actually a precedent for such an activity: a few years ago, when I happened to be in a huge funk for some reason, Lilianna and her husband Rick wrote down all the things they appreciated about me. Lilianna called me up and read me the whole generous list. I've since forgotten most of the details, but I still remember how loved, cared for, known I felt when she finished reading. “Wow,” I said, all choked up, “And I didn't even have to die!” Too often, we save our appreciation for funerals.)

However, the brainstorming session was not to be. First, I wanted to plan the weekend, and that discussion, brief as it was, annoyed Parker. “Can we be done with the planning yet?” he asked in the petulant tone that's most likely to annoy me. We were off to a great start. Then, one of our neighbors walked by, and ended up telling us a long story about how he's not liking the art class he's taking. Then, given that the subject of education was on our minds, Parker and I spent the rest of our evening strategizing about how to get Denali into a more challenging math class.

Yesterday morning, I got a text from Lilianna that said, “Morning golden bird, want to go out and be sexy rulers of the universe?” I laughed, and read it out loud to Parker. He suggested that I text back, “A Sith lord can have only one apprentice, and the position is taken – your offer is the classic trap.” So I did, and then Parker also texted her himself: “Actually, Gandalf says there is only ONE dark lord, and he does not share power.” Much later in the day, Lilianna replied, “I guess that's a no.” It was only then that I realized the invitation might have been more than metaphorical, but she didn't respond to any further texts from me or Parker.

So this morning, I have been thinking about Lilianna, and wondering whether she might be miffed at me. Our friendship has been an immense source of joy, yes, but it hasn't always been easy. There was even a period of several months, from December of 2008 to April or May of 2009, in which we weren't speaking to each other. Every relationship has a dark side, and ours, at its worst, looked like this:

Lilianna: I refuse to be a victim of your need to feel “better than”.

Viny: I refuse to play lackey to the power freakazoid.

You see, those jests about the impossibility of sharing power have their roots in the past, and inside each glossy fruit on the great spreading tree of our friendship is a small pit. That pit, if you will, carries in it the pattern of the whole, which means it's stamped with the bitter truth about our natures, hers and mine.  Still, there's nothing of greater value, no better cause for celebration, than what we humans can create when we grow together -- roots, trunk, branches, leaves, fruits, pits and all.