PAT McDERMOTT: the gift that just keeps giving

A trip down memory lane makes the perfect birthday gift for a much loved childhood friend.

D ear Sue,

It may not be your birthday in Canada yet but it is in Sydney. We age faster Down Under, you know! So, once again, it’s time to celebrate the annual “festival of Sue”!

The other night I sat down and ran through a few possible birthday gifts.

A superb dinner at a ridiculously expensive restaurant? But then I wouldn’t be there. I mean, what fun would that be?

A generous gift certificate from a fancy shop? Hmm, maybe. But I’d have to Google a shop near you and then fiddle about on their website and they probably wouldn’t have the right size and nobody wants a diamond necklace that doesn’t fit!

I thought briefly (very) about suggesting we meet in Rome or

Barcelona but who knows when that will be?

Flowers? Nope. You would forget to change the water, then they would die and one morning, five weeks later, you’ll wonder what the smell is.

Then I had a light-bulb moment. When you are old friends sometimes the best present is a short walk down memory lane.

The first thing I remember is that when we were growing up, wherever we were, we were always together. Admittedly our choices were limited. There was my house, your house, the corner where our paths divided on the way home from school or, on Saturdays, the shopping centre.

Let’s face it. There was simply too much excitement in our lives for two 13-year-old girls!

My house was big and empty.

Only my mum and I lived there.

Your house, on the other hand, was crowded. You had the tiniest bedroom in the world. As I remember, your three brothers had to share a bedroom so your granddad could have a room to himself. There he’d sit in his comfy chair, the one with cigarette burns down the arms, and smoke in peace. “One day he’ll burn the house down,” your mum would say.

“It’s the only way I’m ever going to get a bigger room!” you’d whisper.

Each morning we met at the corner, halfway between our houses, to walk and talk all the way to school. After school we’d walk and talk all the way back to ‘our’ corner and then talk some more. Like maybe for an hour! These days I can’t stand up that long! When we finally said goodbye we’d run all the way home so we could ring each other and talk some more.

“What can you possibly have left to say?” our mothers would ask.

“Get off that bloody telephone!” your dad would bellow.

When you have a best friend you can read each other’s minds, finish each other’s sentences and understand each other’s dreams. Sue’s brothers teased me like a sister. My mum loved her like a daughter.

When we grew up I became a journalist, got married and had a heap of kids. Sue became a nurse and stayed single. We’d argue about who worked harder. I’d win the ‘overtired’ and ‘overworked’ category and she would win the ‘you decided to have all those kids’ argument and then we’d get back to sipping cheap white wine and eating spring rolls.

Despite some stiff competition from Down Under, Sue is still my oldest ‘best’ friend. I miss her heaps and raise a glass and an Aussie spring roll. Happy birthday, Sue! AWW