Dear Counselor

Dear Counselor,

I know you'll see the humor in that greeting, but it's not completely in jest. We've been through a lot together in the past – what, six years or so? I lose track of time, but you know that. I also tend to wander off-subject, but you know that, too.

So, I'm writing this to say that your friendship these past years has been, along with all else, therapeutic. Most of the people I know would consider that less than a compliment, but considering where we've been and where we are today, I know you'll “get it.” Especially since, professionally, that greeting up there applies.

I can't remember exactly when The Breakfast Club gathered for the first time. I can remember whose idea it was, initially, but let's let that name lie. (Lying is what he did best.) In the long run, it was a good thing, because I got to know a great group of artists, and you were among them. Friday mornings became an important part of my life, and Pam's, too.

Remember swapping chairs to have conversations with everyone? 30 people at one table and it was all about art and creativity. I won't go through the whole history of the group. You already know. What matters here is that we got to know an incredible photographer, who happens to make a living helping families, especially children, cope with life's stresses. The pursuit of the perfect photo was one of the ways you coped, and that common trait became a bond. It wasn't the only one.

That unnamed photographer invited us both to "participate in" (read “help his ass with”) shows and shooting opportunities. He made sales. We made a few friends. Guess who paid for gas, lunch, etc.

We all ended up displaying our work at the same gallery. There's another name I won't mention. What a ride that was! So many creative friends made, and every one of them threw their support into her gallery. None did more than you and us. Through the passing of her husband, the eventual loss of the building lease, the move (both her gallery and her home) – we were there. Financially, spiritually, industriously, we were there.

In the end, all the effort wasn't just wasted; it was completely unappreciated. When she suddenly decided to close the doors, we were simply told to “get our stuff.” Printing, matting, marketing, hanging, hours devoted to events, all for nothing. We weren't the only ones, but she had taken advantage of us in a special way, and you bore the worst of it.

Through it all, nothing has affected our friendship. It's much more than shared interests and a willingness to help others. We've all been there for each other. We know more about each other's physical and mental states than our own families. We know things that cause us pain.

When the interest in the group breakfasts waned, we missed the camaraderie. It wasn't long before you suggested the three of us meet for one-dollar breakfast burritos, and Friday mornings were fun again. Eventually, we decided Saturdays were a better choice, and with very few exceptions for emergencies, we've shared a table every Saturday morning.

We share much more than breakfast. We swap stories about the week, although you listen more than you share. We laugh. A lot. We laugh at each other, at ourselves and at the world in general. We agree not to talk politics, although we always do. We sit across the table from each other politically as well as literally. And when the subject is breached, we can disagree without seriously insulting each other. A few friendly pokes and jabs are never seen as an infraction.

After an hour or so of great conversation and laughter, we wish each other a good week and head home. You insist on paying the breakfast check, because it's “therapy for you.” The truth is, without those Saturday mornings, Pam and would I have very little to look forward to these days.

And that, my friend, is the point. You know we'll be leaving next year and moving 700 miles away. You know the reasons and you understand them. Meanwhile, we'll make the most of the time we have left. Hopefully, you and I will finish your website and photo book. We'll be here to help you with anything we can, from the leaks in the RV to the move if your plans to buy a house come together. And every possible Saturday morning, we'll see you at breakfast. I'll beat you in the race to swipe the payment card when I can.

After the move, you'll come visit. There will always be a place at our table for you. We'll be back down here now and then. I believe in those promises. But to be honest, I don't know what we're going to do without the Saturday breakfasts with our best friend.

Sincerely, your favorite “non-clients”

Dana & Pam