Several
weeks ago, Heather graciously asked me (and others) to prepare a guest post for
this blog. I'm not an artist or a
designer, and the only elements of design or bits of vintage inspiration in my
house are those that Heather has given to me or I’ve learned about on her
blog. But since I’ve been blessed to
know her for more than 22 years, I decided that perhaps my greatest offering as
a guest on her blog would be to share a story about her.
Winnowing
down the selection of tales was difficult. Should I tell about the time she accidentally flung forest green
ink into the perfect blond tresses of the most popular girl in high
school? Or about the one time we sheepishly stepped outside of our
rule-following shells and skipped school and subsequently had a little incident
in her ’68 VW Bug involving a barbed wire fence? Or, should I tell how we developed our very own language of
acronyms?
Reliving
our many adventures in my heart has made me grin so wide that my cheeks are
sore. What a road we’ve
traveled together. But, to
quote Maria from The Sound of Music,
“Let’s start at the very beginning.
A very good place to start…”
May
I tell you a story about my friend, Heather?
I
first saw her on an elementary school playground in 1988, deep in the Hill
Country of Texas. My family had moved
to town three years before, and I’d made a few friends. But even though I couldn’t
articulate it, my 11-year-old heart yearned for the friendship of a true
kindred spirit.
Heather
has always been a classic beauty.
Even in the 5th grade, she was an island of loveliness standing
out against a sea of 1980s fashion trends: Kaepa shoes (Remember those? You could change the colors of the triangles to match your
outfits!), the ORIGINAL banana clips, ripped sweatshirts, sweat bands, wearing one’s jam-box as an accessory, frizzy
perms, and shoulder pads. I
remember like it was yesterday:
that day at the playground, Heather wore a petal pink shirt, a brown
belt with a pewter buckle, the coolest acid-washed jeans, and stylish brown loafers. A pewter beaded necklace peeked out from under the
collar of the shirt, and her brunette hair was full of loose curls. But the most glamorous part of
all? She had braces. Surely
those of you who, like me, didn’t have braces remember the braces-envy
phenomenon…where you’d fashion anything available—stretched-out paper clips,
chewing gum pulled into a thin, long string, etc.--into something that followed
the contour of your teeth, creating just the right amount of lip-poof to obtain
the effect that braces have on your voice.
The
combination of Heather’s beauty and kindness made her stand out from the other
kids.
And
I knew that I desired at that moment, more than anything else, to be her
friend.
I
don’t recall exactly how we first met that day, but there was an instant
connection. It turns out we were
also neighbors, living just around the corner from each other. We probably put hundreds of miles on our
banana-seat bikes riding back and forth between our houses. Like best friends do, we shared our
hearts and our snack foods. We still have each other’s childhood phone
number memorized; the last four digits of her number have even taken their place
of honor among my rotating PIN numbers.
I'm
pretty sure I couldn’t have done life without Heather. She lost her Daddy when she was 10, and
she walked me through that dark valley when I lost my own at 18. We have linked arms and faced other
scary things in life--together.
She
has also made my life beautiful.
One rainy summer day during our high school years, Heather came over, put
on a movie for me to watch in the living room, gave me an I'm-up-to-something
double eyebrow raise, and retreated to my room. In about an hour, she proudly called for me to come and
see. My room had been completely
transformed. Using only what I
already had, she redesigned and freshened it, rearranging furniture, swapping
out bed linens, moving around knick-knacks, etc. I could scarcely believe my eyes, and hadn’t the imagination
or the skills to do that on my own.
It was a gift that she gave me so many times. In those pre-HGTV years, her makeovers were quite a novelty.
I
remember one of Heather’s first faux-painting endeavors: she painted her room a rich chocolate
hue and then expressed brewed tea bags near the ceiling’s molding, allowing the
tea to carve a lovely rivulet down the wall. Standing in the doorway with my mouth agape, I felt my heart
squeeze with the tangible proximity of her talent.
For
the past 22 years, there have been ups and downs in my life, but this has
remained constant: Heather’s
presence, grace, and love. Using
her bottomless well of creativity and design, she has blessed my life and the
lives of countless others in many different ways. Sometimes it is difficult for her to see or even comprehend
her beauty and how tremendously talented she is. But I see it, just as I saw it that day on the
playground. And I know you will
see it as you are able to get glimpses of her heart from her blog.
It’s
been a privilege to gather up these memories and arrange them in small posy to
share with you. Thanks for
lending your ear.
Ginny
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