Do you ever have one of those moments that makes you stop in your tracks and wonder if life is a little more mysterious than we give it credit for? I had one of those moments today.
About a week ago, I had a dream about my friend, Rene. It had been quite a while since she’d crossed my mind, so waking up after dreaming about her felt like receiving a gentle reminder of someone who had once been such an important part of my life.
Our friendship had one of the most unusual beginnings imaginable. We met in high school while playing softball on opposing teams. During one game, I literally ran into her at second base. Not figuratively – literally. The collision knocked her down, and she ended up breaking her collarbone. I felt absolutely terrible. As she recovered, I tried to help however I could, and somewhere along the way, what started as an unfortunate accident turned into a wonderful friendship. Looking back now, it’s funny how life sometimes introduces people in the most unexpected ways.
After high school, Rene attended St. Olaf College. During her sophomore year, I spent a weekend visiting her there. It was my very first trip to St. Olaf, and I can still remember how much fun we had together. Those carefree college weekends have a way of becoming snapshots in time, and that one has stayed with me all these years.
Later, Rene stood beside me as one of the bridesmaids in my wedding. Having her share one of the happiest days of my life was something I’ll always treasure.
As often happens, life became busy. Careers, families, responsibilities, and distance slowly made our visits less frequent. We still cared about each other, but the years slipped by faster than either of us probably realized.
Then, in March of 2000, Rene passed away unexpectedly. A promising life cut way too short. I’ve thought about her many times over the years and have missed her more than words can say.
Today, I wasn’t looking for memories. I was simply browsing through the books at a thrift store when something caught my eye – a 1982 St. Olaf College yearbook. Of all the yearbooks in all the thrift stores… I picked it up. Knowing Rene attended St. Olaf during those years, I flipped through the pages just to see if she might be in it. And there she was. Her sophomore year. Smiling back at me exactly as I remembered her. For just a moment, it felt like time folded in on itself. Suddenly I wasn’t standing in a thrift store anymore. I was remembering softball games, college weekends, wedding preparations, laughter, and all the little moments that make a friendship so meaningful.
Finding that yearbook one week after dreaming about her didn’t feel like a coincidence. Maybe it was. Or maybe some things aren’t meant to be explained. I’d rather believe it was one last little hello. A gentle reminder that the people who leave footprints on our hearts never really disappear. Sometimes they find surprising ways to remind us they’re still part of our story. Today, that reminder was tucked between the worn covers of a forty-four-year-old yearbook sitting on a thrift store shelf, just waiting for me to find it.
Thank you for the memories, Rene. I miss you and love you. And thank you for reminding me that friendships like ours don’t end – they simply change.
