In The Company Of Cheerful Ladies

I know I am borrowing from Alexander McCall Smith again. But what can I do when the man comes up with titles that inspire me?

When the Fab5 sisterhood gets together, especially after the sun goes down, and the night is warm, and there is wine involved, we let down our hair. Okay, more like, I slouch and take up smoking, which I only do in the company of a certain woman. I hope she quits smoking soon for both our sake. You hear that?

But my sisters drink and they like to talk over each other and argue even though they are saying the same thing. I can't get a word in. I am quieter by nature, but more often, I just don't see the point. I mean, why would I want to argue when all sides are saying the same thing and I like that differences are the flavourful spices of life?

Okay, maybe sometimes I egg them on. But only because my sisters are so thoughtful that they stop their ranting and proselytizing to ask me what I think. Really, they need very little help to be on their way.

Take last night. No, no, can't divulge details because we have a secrecy pact.

Once the sun went down and the wine came out, there was much laughing and crying in the backyard. We talked about sons and lovers, and mothers and sons. I saw that each of us loves our husband, that between each couple, there is a deep, tender connection. I know that from how we say what we say about our husbands, and what we don't say about them. When I see the interactions between each couple, they substantiate one's value, compatibility and significance in the other's life.

All four of us have first born sons, all in their teen years now. We each have a fierce love for our sons rivalling the love for our husbands. Is it because they are our sons, or is it because they are our first borns? Each of us deals with the separation of mother and son differently; we are different women, the boys - young men now really - are different people. I think each of us shares the same angst. The young boys that we had such an intense bond with are now creating lives of their own over which we have little influence. I sure hope the fathers have a better grip on their sons entering manhood.

As these conversations raged on in the dark, black cats prowled for worms, men ran away, boys and girls were sent away, there was smoke all around, and finally, some of us stumbled about in the street in the wee hours with sore feet and broken toes. It was a grand night. I love these women.