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Street Friends

 I don't know what it is like to raise children outside of New York City.




 




When my kids were little, I spent huge swaths of my time in the playground with my kids .During that time I developed intense friendships with the other mother's and sitters in the park. 



We knew intimate details about one another's' lives. We would share struggles with infertility or health or behavioral issues our children were struggling with. We might know about issues that one or another was going through in our marriages. We didn't always remember last names.




Often I would run into one of these friends as we were pushing strollers up and down Broadway or walking our kids to and from school or their various afterschool activities. Those moments on Broadway were a chance to catch up on our lives to share and solve problems together. As we and our kids grew older we might talk about struggles getting into the right middle school or a kid having issues with drugs or mental health issues or our own struggles with ailing parents or spouses. Many of those friendships have spanned decades. I don't necessarily see those women as often these days but there is a deep bond between us.



Over the intervening decades, there were times when our kids might be in school together, or Hebrew school or we might be saying kaddish together. Most of those deep conversations took place intensely as we were going between one place and another. We didn't need coffee or a meal for the real conversation to emerge.


Last night I heard that one of those moms who has been part of my life for the last thirty five years is in a coma after a terrible stroke.


I hope that I can be of help to my friend and her son in the time moving forward.



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