Friends for All Seasons
by Pamela Kennedy
I was shopping not long ago in a large department store when an earnest clerk, spotting a potential customer, approached me, inquiring about my need for assistance.
"Just browsing," I replied.
"Well," she persisted, "perhaps if you could tell me what season you are, I could direct you to the appropriate section of our fashion department."
"Season?" I puzzled with a frown.
"Oh, don't you know your season, dear?" She clucked her tongue and shook her head slightly. "You see, everyone falls into a certain season depending upon her hair color, eye color, and skin tone. Our cosmetologist could help you discover what season you are. Then you'd know what colors to wear and you'd never have trouble shopping again!" She pointed toward the cosmetics department with a hopeful smile.
I started off in the suggested direction, but as soon as I was out of the clerk's line of sight, I veered left at the designer shoes and made a dash for the escalator. I really didn't care to have some stranger tell me what season she thought I belonged in. Besides, I had a suspicion I'd probably fall between seasons into some fashion "Twilight Zone" and never be able to wear anything but beige for the rest of my life!
How silly, I thought later, to pigeonhole people into seasons. And then I began to think of the women I know and cherish as friends. Only I wasn't thinking so much of their hair and their eyes as of the personalities and of the parts of themselves they gave to me, enriching my life so immeasurably. And it was funny how, as I thought of them, I could picture them as friends from different seasons.
There are some who sparkle with joy and radiate cheer like a sunny summer morning. Their optimism and enthusiasm are contagious, filling any room they enter. No one rains on their parade! Their conversations bubble over with encouragement and hope: "I knew you could do it!" "Don't let 'em get you down!" "Things are looking up!" I never remain in the doldrums with these summer people around.
And I thought of autumn's warmth and color, of its homey scents and rich harvest, other people came to mind -- friends from home, from years ago. And though we've changed and grown, our friendships remain. Their telephone calls and notes bring back shared memories, both sweet and sorrowful. These friends who "knew me when." With them there is no need to impress or excuse. How great to bask in the autumnal warmth of these time-tested friendships.
I pictured the chill of winter, which drives me indoors to the fire when snow lies deep in the garden and soup simmers in the pit, and I was reminded of winter friends. These are the listeners, the thoughtful, pensive ones who share their wisdom as gently as the falling show. They hear with their hearts and can wrap their understanding around me like a hug, dispelling the chill of self-doubt. What a wonderful thing to have dear winter friends!
But what of spring? Springtime people bring a freshness to life. They nudge and push me out of my ruts as insistently as a crocus pierces the cold earth. They identify and encourage hidden potential I never knew I had, daring me to try new things, accept new challenges, and cast off old habits. They make me change and grow -- processes that aren't always easy but make me more mature, more insightful, more fulfilled. I'm thankful for my springtime friends who never allow me to become too comfortable or self-satisfied.
After giving it some thought, I've decided there might be something to this seasonal stuff after all. But I'm glad I'm not limited by a fashion designer's idea of the type of friend I need. I'm grateful that the Grand Designer who created me has blessed me with precious friends for all seasons.