Thursday, July 30, 2015


This I consider a pause for thought - one of those epiphanies in my life. 

Terri DelCampo

Chris looked almost as resplendent as Andrea, my best friend, as he twirled her around the dance floor.  I smiled, watching her wedding dress float along with them, securely pinned in the back because the buttons I, as Matron of Honor had warned her about, had popped open during Daddy’s dance. 
I looked from Andrea and Chris over at Christine, my fellow bridesmaid and blossoming friend, and said, “I wish I had one of those.”
“What, a gaping wedding dress?”
“No.  A brother.  He’s so sweet and he looks out for her and is probably a better friend to her than you and I and all the rest of her girlfriends put together.”
“What about a sister?”
“Not the same.  Sisters can be rivals.  Brothers tease but are loyal and usually protective, even if they’re younger.  It’s just different.  I’ve always wanted one, I still do.”
“Well, you know, maybe someday.”
“Yeah right.  You think my mom’ll find a prince to thaw her out or what?”

We chuckled as Andrea and Chris finished their dance.
“Zippers are wonderful things.”  I chided with a grin as the bride walked off the dance floor.
“It’ll save Jim time later on,” she kidded right back. 
“Not the way I pinned that sucker!”  I nudged Christine, who laughed heartily, but Andrea had missed it, already out of earshot. 
I watched Chris lead his mother onto the dance floor and continued wishing, knowing that the Great Spirit has a way of listening to things you feel without thinking. 
A few months later my eighteen year marriage quietly fell apart, leaving me with an awkward friendship with my soon-to-be-ex-husband, and two teen-aged sons who still liked name brand sneakers and wasting electricity.  So I, after taking a year off and maxxing out my VISA, decided it was time to get off my ass and get back to work.  I needed it.  Andrea had faded out of my life because she thought since her husband and my ex were best friends dinner parties might be a little tedious, my mother’s on-again-off-again snit was on again, the kids had friends occupying most of their free time.  I had the dog to talk to.  She’s an affectionate little thing but she doesn’t quite get my jokes, you know? 
So out the door I went.
I loved going to work because the people there appreciated my off-beat sense of humor, mostly, while displaying those of their own.  The laughter de-zombified me, at least until I got home each evening. 
Once there I would get through the dinner hour with the kids, then retire to the back porch with a book, seldom even opening it, just sitting in my hammock chair and staring at the trees in the back of the yard, or watching the moon’s slow arc into the sky and upward over the house and out of sight.  My spirit was re-injected into Zombieville nightly and I didn’t care for it to be otherwise. 
One day at work I made a smart-assed comment to a crony.  I heard a masculine chuckle from a nearby cubicle and smiled. “Only a true sarcastic soul would have laughed at that,” I said, “welcome, friend.”
I received my first e-mail from “Sir Phil” that day, addressed to “Lady Terri,” and so began a string of e-mails as we wove a raucous and romantic medieval soap opera casting all unsuspecting office personnel as lords, ladies, peasants, crones, dragons and other frightful beasts as they constantly provided material.  Work became a joy and I almost couldn’t wait to get there with a great tangent of the soap opera in my mind with which to tantalize Sir Phil. 
Eventually, for fear of management monitoring our electronic emissions, Phil and I switched to paper communiques.  It turned out to be quite a therapeutic thing for me.  Instead of staring into the darkness every night until bedtime, I darted upstairs to my desk after dinner to write letters to “Sir” Phil on my lap top that I hadn’t used to write a word in almost two years.
Now, when I re-read the letters on my computer, I realize that Phil came into my life at a time when I was as close to the brink of insanity as I’ve ever been.  The letters (500 plus pages worth in a year!) provided me with a creative outlet as I honed my writing skills again.  Phil listened and listened as I poured my heart and soul out to him, always responding with just the right blend of humor, sarcasm and compassion. 
Soon we became good friends outside of work and discovered many common interests, plus, that he had an understanding of my spirituality, which amazed me.  I didn’t have to get into long-winded explanations with him as I did other friends, he already knew.  We shared other interests also, crafts, reading, movies, and so on.  He made me laugh, cry, care, love again, just when I thought my life would be forever devoid of such emotion.  And in addition to that he teased me and kept me forever just a tiny bit off-balance…like a brother would. 
I will always consider him my best friend and savior, for he is both, but more, I call him my brother, because he is exactly what I’ve always wished for.  I thank the Great Spirit for sending him to me each and every time I pray.
Having Phil in my family proves two things to me. One, that the Great Spirit reaches right into my heart and knows and cares about my most fervent prayers, and two, that even the most impossible wishes can come true. 

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