By Perdita Connolly

W hen you think of friends， you tend to think of people who have been in your life for a long time： childhood friends， college friends， family friends. But there is another kind of friend， and another kind of friendship—one that does not unfold over a long period of time but springs entirely from a particular moment.1

The first such friend I remember is the little girl with red curly hair in the bed next to mine when I had my tonsils2 out. I was three or four. She was probably two years older and a great deal bolder. She would clamber out of bed in her striped pajamas whenever the nurse was gone.3 I dont remember what she did， barefoot on the cold brown linoleum4， that so impressed me， but without her， I would have been alone and afraid.

In London， a year or two later， there was the Russian girl. It was a strange year for me. My mother had remarried and we would be moving to the United States. I didnt really understand what that meant， I just knew that everything was changing. The Russian girl and I were the two oldest in our little school； the others were babies who couldnt speak clearly and were still in diapers5. Our friendship took the form of fierce competition， since we were necessary， but unintelligible6， to each other. She spoke no English； I， no Russian. We communicated by trying to outdo7 each other—at drawing， at games， even at eating. A picky eater， I would choke down the watery powdered eggs in order to finish first.8 Our contests， I think， gave me something I could control. And maybe I gave her， who had already had to leave the familiar behind， the same.

In eighth grade， there was Jenny. In our polite， suburban girls school， she stood out， her hair in rough brown braids， her hands stained with gentian violet from treating a barbed wire cut on her pony， Redwing.9 I loved to stay at her house， a warm， untidy farmhouse out in the country with a complement of cats and dogs. Eighth grade was a terrible year. We both knew it， but we didnt have to talk about it. We spent most of our time in the barn with Redwing. On cold winter days， Jenny showed me how she would lie on Redwings back， under the horse blanket. Then wed go out on long treks， taking turns riding and walking. She left in ninth grade and I missed her. We had gotten each other through a difficult time.

Anyone with children knows the rapid friendships formed with parallel parents10， some of whose names you can barely recall. To Julie， I will be forever grateful.

I remember her pretty face and dark hair. But I knew her for such a short time that I cant be sure that was really her name. We met on the beach in New Jersey late one afternoon just after Labor Day， when the beach was almost empty. She was there with her twin boys， the only other children there， and about the same age as my daughter. Warily， the children approached each other and soon were digging holes together.

I moved my towel over near hers and we began to talk. She lived year-round in the little beach town. I was perched alone with my daughter in a big Victorian a block from the beach， the site of a summer experiment in communal living.11 The commune had disbanded and my young husband had taken off for North Dakota，12 leaving me to puzzle out what to do next. Now， suddenly， there was someone I could talk to. For the next couple of weeks， we met at the beach with the children， and I would go home with her so that they could go on playing. We would order pizza. The normalcy of that little home， the husband who came home at six （my cue to leave）， was balm to my despairing heart，13 sustaining me till I could gather myself for the necessary leap forward.

Such friends as these often arrive when your own life is off balance； they support you till the world settles on its axis14 once again. You cant forget them any more than you can forget the intense time you shared. A word， a smile， a place， the weather can bring memories of them back. You think of them fondly and wonder how life turned out for them. Silently， you thank them and wish them well.

1. unfold： 顯露，呈現(xiàn)；spring：生長，涌出。

2. tonsil： 扁桃體。

3. clamber： 爬，攀登；striped：有條紋的；pajama： 睡衣。

4. linoleum： 油地氈。

5. diaper： 尿布。

6. unintelligible： 難以理解的。

7. outdo： 勝過，超過。

8. choke down： 強(qiáng)咽下去；powdered： 制成粉狀的。

9. 在我們這個(gè)郊區(qū)女子學(xué)校，大家都很禮貌，只有她與眾不同。她胡亂扎著棕色的辮子，手上沾滿了為治療她的小馬“紅翼”被鐵絲割傷而使用的紫藥水。braid： 辮子；stained with： 沾著……；gentian violet：紫藥水；barbed wire cut： 帶刺鐵絲網(wǎng)造成的傷口；pony： 小馬。

10. parallel parenting： 指離婚后共同撫養(yǎng)孩子，與孩子關(guān)系親密，但雙方為避免矛盾則盡量少聯(lián)系和接觸的父母。

11. perch：（使）坐，置于；communal：（尤指居住在一起的人）共享的，共有的。

12. disband： 解散；North Dakota： 北達(dá)科他州，位于美國中北部。

13. normalcy： 常態(tài)；cue： 暗示，信號(hào)；balm： 療傷止痛的藥膏，慰藉。

14. axis： 軸線，中心線。