Six Flavors of Pajamas

Four days. Four nights. Four years' worth of catching up. Almost two decades of change.

I was asked what I packed for my trip. I replied, "Two weeks' worth of clothes. Five pairs of shoes. Ten sets of lingerie. Oh, and six flavors of pajamas."

Did I need two weeks' worth of clothes? Hardly, but I think it's important to have choices. I fully expected to spend 75% of the trip relaxing at home with her in our pajamas. And I've not been disappointed.

We talk at length about nothing and everything. We laugh at our foibles and express (for the most part) compassion towards those of others we know. We analyze, overanalyze, and dismiss an infinite number of topics. We attempt to evaluate the universe and our place in it; a futile effort, but entertaining nonetheless. We are ourselves, unselfconsciously and without fear of judgment. In this microcosm, we are the very essence of liberation, validation, and solidarity.

We contemplate our union and become aware that in our relationships with men, we are seeking not so much the individual qualities of each other; rather, we seek the feelings we invoke in each other. Our relationship is not a sexual one, but we recognize and respect each other as sexual beings. We marvel at the effect of our combined chemistries on the people around us. We are quietly amused when the other retreats for a few minutes of private time, and by the fact that we are uninhibited enough to do so comfortably.

We listen to music of the seventies. We drink, but not to excess. We smoke. We cook and bake. We play at working in the garden. We meet with the people in her world to give them a glimpse of a relationship that has helped shape us as women. We allow ourselves to be beautiful.

Our presence to the other has the effect of psychic valium. Loving words and thoughts soothe angst like a salve. As it has always been, our friendship is a precious balm, fragrant and healing. One weekend and we are rejuvenated.

While I write this, she sits in her favorite chair and reads. Even in my periphery, she is a magnificent creature, exuding an aura of quiet confidence and ultra-femininity. We bask in each others company, temporarily enveloped in a comfortable silence.

We try to define our friendship so that others can understand, but it is more ethereal than simple words convey. Oddly enough, despite my love of words, I'm okay with that.