Just Make It Better

I was determined to find my friend.

I had lost her when our mutual form of employment was closed down and our lives headed onto different paths. We’d always had a relationship that strayed in different directions, but eventually we’d meet up again, certain to enrich our friendship with our travels.

When we met she was a middle-aged mother of five who was born and raised in Trinidad. Tall, with caramel colored skin, six pack abs, and behind her struggles she had vibrancy and an appreciation for life unlike any I’d ever seen. I was still an insecure teenager with fair skin, blue eyes, who was raised in a small American village without a locked front door. My marred heart and youthful optimism and her warm humor and sincerity gave us an instant magnetism.

I felt my first twinge of panic when I called her phone to find a Latin American immigrant hang up on me during my interrogation. What do you mean, aren’t you supposed to know the whereabouts of the number’s previous owner?

Despite my dwindling fear that something horrible happened (death, deportation, her decision to eradicate me from her life) I felt relentless that I’d find her and I set out to it with great perseverance.

With McGuyver like resourcefulness (i.e. the internet) I started my search. Here’s a list of what my (mostly failed) attempts consisted of:

1. Stalking all those we had worked with (annoying & proof of my determination)
2. Driving around her old not-so-safe neighborhood in the hopes that I would figure out which house she lived in and see if anyone knew her still. (scary)
3. Googling anyone that might know her contact information (inconsistent)
4. Contacting government agencies (fruitless)
5. Going to her daughter’s school and trying to spot her nine-year-old (ethically conflicting)
6. Calling my Ex’s (surprisingly uplifting)
7. Researching her Ex’s (weird)
8. Contacting her old employers (useless)

A contact from another co-worker finally called me and knew her new number. She hadn’t been deported; she had lost her phone. (Eye roll.) While speaking with her I felt like a mother who wanted to hug and kill her returned lost child.

I found her!

Had I given up I may never have. Had I allowed defeat to win I wouldn’t have the joy of my best friend again. I could have lost her.

What are you giving up because of hard work, huge challenges, or the victory of defeat?

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