A word about Facebook friends

I am so weary of the giant air quotes.

I’ll admit there are names I barely know who appear on my timeline, but let me tell you a story about my “Facebook friends”—air quotes not included.

When Melani was pregnant, I fell in with a couple hundred women who were expecting babies around the same time and who were around our age. After some time that giant group spawned smaller groups, including about 20 kindred spirits who called themselves the Sisterhood.

We come from crazy different backgrounds with a vast range of beliefs, traditions and political views. The Sisterhood falls somewhere between a slumber party and therapist’s office, that place where secrets have air and advice is requested, not forced. It ain’t always pretty—we are 20 women after all. Some have left. A couple have joined.

This small Sisterhood is my lighthouse, my comfort in rocky waters. And though we bicker, as sisters do, each woman, mother, friend, responded with excitement when we said we’d be driving through their town.

I quietly called Road Trip 2012 the Mommy Tour as we checked each east-coaster off our list. In 2013, we reunited with some and met others for the first time—they had the benefit of rumour, knowing via the hive mind what they were in for when we arrived. We met in malls and diners and in their homes. They fed us and laughed with us and made North America a little smaller, a little friendlier. I won’t list their names here (though they are welcome to out themselves in the comment box), but their names are scattered throughout this blog. There are three we haven’t met yet, but all that means is that we aren’t done travelling.

So you can put your air quotes around them if you like, but next time you disparage someone’s “Facebook friend,” pause a moment to think of my Sisterhood and the great joy they have given me.