The YaYas
I see them everywhere. Small groups of women, usually three or four, sitting in church together, heads together over lunch, power walking down the boulevard, at coffee after their tennis matches. You can see the intimacy, the trust – these are women who have grown together over time. They share their secrets. They prop each other up in the bad times. They laugh over their faux-pas.
No, I don’t envy them, nor do I want to become a part of their group. I know my own YaYas will build, and I will have women I love sharing my life here. Meanwhile, I miss my old YaYa’s.
I’ve been here a year now. The one year point, for me, is usually when things start happening. The real friends come along. I start committing and getting involved in my new community. When I think of all the details we have overcome in one year, all the anxieties I had, all the details over which I agonized, I thank God for his mercy and for the peace of mind we have now. Truly, he answered every prayer, and brought us to a good and spacious place.
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Amazina
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Here There and Everywhere 
Love from one of your old ya yas ….looking forward to seeing you again!
I can hardly wait. What a great excuse for a get-together, LOL! We can share our experiences with repatriation . . . 🙂
Like this post. Couldn’t live happily without my stalwart and generous and quite wonderful women friends.
MMH – I couldn’t agree more. It’s just a little harder when you move around a lot; building those YaYa relationship takes time and trust and shared experiences . . .