Back Door Friends

In June of 1979 on my 14th birthday, my best friend Nancy gave me a book of poetry titled "God Bless My Friend". I just loved poetry back then. I even tried my hand at it during those emotional teen years but alas, as an adult, I have learned to control those raging emotions, quelling my gift of prose.

I remember pouring over the book and occasionally using the poems in handmade cards for those I dearly loved. I don't know where Nancy is now, we parted ways somewhere in the mid 80's. Times changed and so did we. Yet, I keep this book still today, in my sewing room, on a shelf with just a few mementos from my childhood, not because I wish Nancy was still my dearest friend or that it is an amazing compilation of poetry, but that it represents a simpler time, a sweeter time.

I pulled the book out today to post on one of the poems in the book. A concept I have carried in my mind almost 30 years. "Back Door Friends".

However, I was surprised when I paged through this sweet book and found that the poem I was looking for wasn't there! Well, it was there, but it wasn't as I had remembered. The title was "Song for Back Doors" not "Back Door Friends". I found the page immediately by it's beautiful line drawing of a the back door of a farm house.

On one side of the door is a beautiful garden backed by a picket fence. On the fence are ripening tomatoes, a sleeping kitten and a few books. The steps hold a baby's pull toy; a cow with wheels. To the right of the door, on the porch, are a pair of haphazardly placed shoes and there is a single boot next to a water dish. Leaning against the door are a broom and an umbrella and on the opposite side is a potted plant and another kitten; inspecting a bug. The door is being held open by a small boy, the mama cat is rubbing her face on his pant leg and the family dog is watching him in anticipation. Inside the kitchen is the boy's mother, she is wearing a checkered apron with matching hot mitts, holding a pie. She is young and sweet faced with her hair upswept, saving for the few loose tendrils.

I loved this picture as a young girl, dreaming of the day I would be a mother and what it would be like to have "Back Door Friends".

Song for Back Doors

Front doors are stately, proud and fine,
They let you in to call or dine,
Or if you ring at two or three,
They grant small talk and cakes and tea.
But backdoors with their faded looks,
Frame kittens, sunlight, boys and cooks,
They let you in without a bell
And friend to friend your secrets tell
While punctuating from a shelf
With apple pie you serve yourself.
The front door is mind's counterpart,
The back door hinges on the heart.

By: Gladys McKee

This poem still speaks to the girl in my heart. I have always wanted to be that mom. The one who was always baking and had friends popping in. When I first moved into my neighborhood I did all I could to solicit people to come over. I had parties, play-dates and mommy coffee times, just to show my hospitality and try to make friends.

Now, almost eight years later, wisdom has settled in. The truest of friends are the ones that come on their own; not looking for 'pie' , but friendship. The kind of friends that are as comfortable as family. Who pop in with very little notice, or none at all, not caring if you are in your pajamas or if your floors have been swept. They are there because they want to be, because you have created a haven, a warm place, a friendly place to share their secrets!

Thank-you to all my "Back Door Friends" - you know who you are, popping in to see what's new with the nursery, bringing me surprises like, ice cream (JS) or coffee (JT), or just dropping in to talk. I love it! Thank you for your friendship.

I especially want to mention my next door neighbors, Tracy and Lainey. Lainey is four. I just love to see her little nose pressed up against my back screen asking, "Ms. Lynn can I have a popsicle?" Tracy and I have spent many a lazy summer afternoon, sitting on my back porch doing nothing more, than 'passing time' .

Living the dream...simple, sweet times.