For almost 20 years, we were known as the two Denises that lived on Copperwood Lane. We had a lot in common – our eldest boys were the same age, and my boys adored her daughter. The four of them, along with neighbor Ashley, grew up together, through good times and sad times.

Angie lived a few blocks over and connected with us through her younger son. Our three boys were part of a large ensemble that hung out throughout elementary, middle school, high school and college. Even though their life journeys took them on different roads, the three boys have never lost track of each other.

Denise, Angie and I didn’t keep up as well as the boys.

Sure we exchanged notes on Facebook and the occasional email, but it took the passing of Denise’s mom to make us acutely aware we needed each other’s company, and time wasn’t on our side.

Denise invited us to her home in Blanco for the city’s annual Wild Woman Weekend. I went back and forth about whether to go, thinking I should stay home and catch up on household chores. But Angie asked if we could ride together, and I decided a car ride with a friend I’ve known almost 30 years and haven’t seen in almost 15 was something I needed to do. House chores, I reasoned, would be there when I returned.

So Angie and I set out early Saturday morning and found our way to Denise’s beautiful home in Blanco. When we pulled up, hugs and smiles enveloped us, and we agreed we hadn’t changed a bit.

Of course we had, but being together again was too special to ruin with reality. Denise had signed us up for a cooking event that morning, so we hurried into Blanco for our first Wild Woman excursion. I figured we’d sit in the audience and watch a chef cook.

Not wild women, it seems.

Angie and I teamed up with Lindsey, Denise’s daughter, and we clicked like clockwork. Our dish of baked salmon with orange dill sauce, baked asparagus and pan-fried potatoes won first place and earned all of us an apron. Denise was our biggest fan in the audience, taking pictures and encouraging us every step of the way. She did the same thing for me years ago when I accidentally put a perm in my hair instead of a body wave.

Afterwards, we strolled around the courthouse lawn, visiting with vendors selling everything from lavender plants to original pottery.

We made our way to the bowling alley, and relaxed while listening to the sounds of bowling balls hitting the wood, people laughing and beer bottles clinking.

We left there, walked the town square and ended up having burgers at the Redbud Café, listening to a singer who sounded just like Patsy Cline.

The best part of the weekend, though, was Sunday morning. We talked for hours over bacon and eggs about where we are in our lives right now and acknowledging the choices we made in the past got us to where we are today. And for all of us, that place is a satisfying one.

We compared our bone density readings, the books we’ve read, religion and politics. We laughed, shed a few tears over parents who’ve passed and bragged unashamedly on our grandchildren.

Mostly, we’re thankful our boys, now grown men, have remained friends. Their friendship drew us together years ago and once again this past weekend. I have a feeling we three wild women won’t wait another 10 years to get together again.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.