By Orit
May 20, 2005
I met up with an old friend recently.
I haven't been in touch with her for years. We got to know each other intimately at the modern Orthodox high school I attended, where we built a deep friendship. She never abandoned me, and I never abandoned her.
But we broke off our friendship when I was 20 years old. It was during my junior year abroad in Israel, and I just felt that she stifled me. She limited me from exploring new areas of interest, and she certainly didn't approve of the Israeli men I wanted to date.
They wanted nothing to do with her.
It was hard for me to let go of her, but I knew for the sake of my pursuit of self-knowledge and growth that we had to part ways. When we finally did, I turned on new lights.
Life became less serene but much more action-packed without seeing her every week.
One of the first things I did after the split was become a waitress at a restaurant by the Tel Aviv shore. When I wasn't waiting tables on weekends, I was going to parties and out on dates. I befriended women my age that actually engaged in premarital sex, which my ex-friend frowned upon. My new friends and I, on the other hand, shared our sexually charged romantic experiences on Saturday afternoons over coffee at Tel Aviv cafes. It was new and refreshing.
I ran into this old friend a few times since we parted; she would show-up at mutual friends' or relatives'. We were always cordial.
But lately I've been missing her. I've been missing her a lot.
I think it's because she just let me be. She reminded me of my strength. She taught me willpower.
Whenever I was with her, I stopped worrying about the hassles of life. Other friends sometimes joined us for dinners, laughter, words of wisdom, and song.
With her I entered a space that no one could touch and no one could hurt; an eternal place that existed beyond time.
Recently, I've been feeling as though I want the world to stop. I've been craving the day when I don't have to wait for a phone call or e-mail, when I won't have to think about my demanding boss, when I won't have to count money or look at bills. I want a day of true, timeless pleasure, as a reminder of why I work so hard to begin with.
Then I realized, I didn't have to go anywhere in particular and my friend never really left me. She has always been there for me when I needed her. All I had to do was wait for the sun to go down on Friday.
This friend has many names. Some like to call her the Seventh Day. Many like to call her Shabbos, some Shabbat, and some the Sabbath. She's sometimes called the Day of Rest, and a famous Friday night hymn greets her as "Queen," which is how I know she's a woman.
So last week I invited her over. We ate dinner, we listened to music, we read. The intensity of our relationship has diminished, but we both know that if we are patient with each other, we can once again understand the beauty of each others' essence.
I don't know if I'll see her next week. I would kind of like to, but I'm not sure our lifestyles match, and if I'll be missing out on more self-growth and true fulfillment -- which she herself had encouraged me to achieve -- if I make a lasting commitment to her at this point in my life.
But I'm glad we're on speaking terms.
And at least I know she'll always be there for me, anywhere in the world, and I will always know where to find her.
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