A woman named Volley

Blonde, quiet, German and kind. Volley was my childhood best-friend’s mom. Her house was always the safe, quiet place to be. Sandra, blonde like her mom, was my tried and true best friend. We stayed in touch as I visited my hometown through middle school. I have a fun photo of us at my mom’s house in Washington, wearing terrycloth “rompers”, all the rage of the early 1980’s. Just on the verge of becoming women.

Is it funny my most vivid memory of being at her house is when my hair caught on fire at their house and Sandra put it out? That smell is unforgettable, the other piece I realize now is how unfazed Volley was, perhaps reality was different, but I remember it well.

She was a great friend to my mom, helping her through my parents divorce, being a safe haven and one who understood and supported her decision to leave. My mother’s decision to leave her hometown, as I look back now, was incredibly brave and hard. She left many things she loved behind, but left some unhealthy stuff behind as well. I am so thankful for her bravery. I know my whole life is different and better because of her brave choice.

I think of my Mom often now, she died 10 years ago this fall, just after my youngest’s first birthday. I wonder where Volley is and know she would be sad to know my Mom is gone. I would love to say thank you to her to all she gave my mom and my family. Wherever you are Volley, thank you for the laughter, the safety and the support you gave us when I was too young to realize how much it meant- your visits, your cards, your kindness and friendship, all meant more than you will ever know.

 

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