The Tulips

Very soon upon our arrival to visit with my Anchorage Friend in her home, she looked at dismay at the tulip on her kitchen table and mentioned that she had wanted to pick a fresh tulip from her flowerbed for us to enjoy. Bringing a tulip indoors was a special treat which she liked to savor. It felt special for her to think of our visit as being Tulip Worthy.

Fast forward an hour (or two ... I really have no idea, because time was irrelevant during our visit) and in came her husband. What did he have in his hand? But two tulips. Fresh out of her flower garden. She was pleased and dismayed all in the same moment. How perfect for him to read her mind ... but two? When the tulips were so numbered out in the garden? No more was said.

The tulips were in bud when they were brought into the house. They were ceremoniously placed in the vase's special spot on the kitchen table for all to appreciate during their brief 'hurrah' indoors.

Our afternoon visit turned into a supper invitation. As we were tidying up the kitchen and winding up the day my Cruising Friend said, "Look at the tulips! They are in full bloom".

We admired those tulips. We heard their history ... of how they were planted by the previous owners. How there were yellows and reds. And of the mixing of the colors which turned them into the most special and unique mix of both colors as their roots and heritage intertwined between the soil and nature did its magic.

The tulips were all but forgotten the next day, as our visit took us out for breakfast and then exploring some of Anchorage's heritage throughout the afternoon. Which led to a supper at a favorite Mexican restaurant and a promise of just 'one more breakfast' before our plane departed the next morning.

The last morning arrived. My Friend came up to me and told me of the tulips ...

She said she looked at those tulips that morning and saw that they had passed their 'expiry date'. She said she quietly sighed and thought (like our visit) "All good things must come to an end ..."

As quickly as that thought came to mind, she was already seeing beyond the obvious. Suddenly, the tulips were symbols for our friendship and the strength and endurance of those mighty tulip bulbs was being compared to the strength and endurance of our friendship that started when we were 10 years old.

Tulip bulbs are planted with hope and promise that they will eventually bloom. Two young girls are brought together by circumstance and there is hope that a friendship will blossom.

Tulip bulbs lie dormant throughout the long winter seasons, yet they are the first flowers to bloom in the spring. Sometimes tulips survive with little to no outside interference. But it never hurts to nurture them a little along the way.

Friendships may lie dormant as life takes us off in various directions. If one is very lucky, those friendships survive throughout years of dormancy (My Cruising Friend and I share that small miracle of a friendship that was quickly revived after a few decades without contact). Other times, a friendship may be nurtured by a sporadic inoculation (cards and letters) to keep us reminded of the friendship we have shared.

When tulip bulbs of different colors are left together over the course of time, there is a subtle mixing of colors. A special blend which is dependent on the conditions, mutations, genetic engineering (with some human intervention)  and bulbs which share that soil. It is only when the tulips bloom after years together, yet apart ... that one can see the special breed which has come together when no one was paying attention.

When friends go their separate ways, they bring new friends/people/spouses/children/pets into their lives. They start to mix with others and become unique and special.

My desire to go to Anchorage was fueled by the knowledge that I would like to reconnect with my American friend. The cruise and Canadian friend that I brought along with me, were just a creative way of getting from "A" to "B".

Our friendship had been dormant for 38 years ... nurtured by letters, Christmas cards and emails. When we came together, she brought her husband and special 'Ginger' (a Labrador/poodle mix ''pup''). I brought my Cruising Friend along with me.

We sat down as 'four' unique individuals - two of us with a history of friendship. Two others with their own connections to the 'original two'. The four of us mixed and blended throughout the course of the three days that we shared. By the end of our visit we felt the 'colors' of one friendship bleeding into the other.

My friend and I marvelled at the kinship our friendship shared with her tulips. Two small flowers brought into our visit at the onset. Two small flowers that lasted only as long as our trip to Anchorage allowed us to stay.

But underneath the soil, lie the bulbs which will endure the long, cold winter of Alaska. They will bloom once again in the spring. They have not died. They are alive and well deeply embedded in the roots where they began. Getting stronger by the year.

Our friendship has only been strengthened by this ever-so-brief visit. It feels as if we breathed life into a friendship that we both thought was pretty special before. Our friendship will endure the long, cold 'winter' between now and whenever life may give us an opportunity to meet again. The bonds of friendship which brought us together are alive and well and deeply embedded within our beings and our families where they began. It will get stronger by the year.

We mutually agreed. It was not a matter of ''all good things come to an end'' ...

What looks like an end is sometimes a beginning. We both believe something has been reborn within our bond of friendship. This visit was like a tulip that blooms brightly and brilliantly during its brief life span above the soil. But our friendship is the bulb that lies quietly beneath the soil. Growing, blending and evolving throughout its dormancy.

I will never look at a tulip without thinking of our eternal friendship.