Friendly circle grows sweeter

The Boston Herald

Beverly Beckham

Francesca filled them with chocolate this year. Not all of them. Just some.

They were small and round and hidden at the bottom of a plate, underneath the thin strips of sugary fried cookies that she makes and brings to my house every fall. Francesca bakes her special cookies and Liz makes her special salad and I order pizza and everyone brings wine. It's a tradition, a small party we had for the first time eight years ago when our children went off to college.

The party was born out of need, really, a need to continue something that started years before when our children were young and we were too and the future was a longer road than the past. Our kids brought us together then - they played, danced, acted, did handstands on the front yard, argued, made up and slept over at each other's houses - and now they were gone, all of them. And it seemed important that we, at least, remain together.

Who remembers what we talked about that first year? Seven women, all different, some friends, some acquaintances. We talked from 6 p.m. until midnight, ending the evening only because we had to, because of jobs and other kids at home and the dreaded prospect of early morning. "We should do this more often," we said, meaning it. But time laughs when you say these things. And a whole year went by.

Then it was the Second Annual Girl's Night. And then the third.

When did Lauren come into the group? Right before she got married? Right after? The women took her under their wings immediately. She may have been my daughter but she became theirs, too. They cared about her. They laughed at her jokes and listened to her stories and offered their advice.

And she listened. She asked what they thought about marriage and houses and kids, and how they'd met their husbands and what they knew now that they didn't know then. She learned from these women. And they learned from her.

The reasons for our annual girl's night graduated from college, all seven of them. But we kept coming together anyway. We had a thing, now, independent of them. They still got top billing - "Where's Blake? Emily? Susan? Julie? Carla? Chris? Sil? What are they doing?" But then it was on to A.J. and Tara and work and babies and inevitably it was on to Lauren who was a work in progress right in front of us, newly married, her future the pink ribbon of highway we all saw when we were her age. And something we saw again whenever we looked at her.

You wouldn't think that a few women sitting around a kitchen table once a year could create, not just a bond or a safety net, but something stronger and softer. Yet that's what happened. Love is like this. It's bigger than you think.

This year Lauren brought her baby to the Eighth Annual Girl's Night. Lucy is only 3 months old so she didn't stay long. Her father took her home early. But for an hour it was a love fest, the women who love Lauren passing that love along to her daughter. They said, "Isn't she beautiful?" And "Doesn't she look just like you" and elbowed one another to hold her.

And why not? They'd listened to Lauren dream about Lucy. They'd hoped with her. They'd had their talks with God.

And here she was now, not just a wish or a dream, but a real baby. And in some way they were a part of her, or hadn't their faith and love inspired in Lauren a faith of her own?

It was the added ingredient this year, the love of these women. It was like the chocolate in the cookie, something that made the whole plate sweeter and even better.

Except it wasn't hidden. You didn't have to dig for it. It was there, in sight, for anyone to see.