Twat. Or "I really hope that Shirley is amused."

I have had the same best friend since I was about 8 years old.  Marisa and I met at YMCA day camp one summer back in 1980-something. We ultimately bonded over the fact that we had an undying love for the giant tree house at the Madisonville Community Park, attempting to hang on for dear life on what we called the "witches hat" (think elevated merry-go-round that not only spins but you dangle from by your arms and that the bigger kids would invariably spin the thing so fast that you couldn't hold on for very long), and the thought that our "counselor" (the teenage boy that was put in charge of our group) was an absolute moron for trying to convince us that watermelons were actually dinosaur eggs.  

Marisa and I became fast friends and began spending almost every weekend with each other, with our parents occasionally telling us that we had to take a break.  As we grew up we also discovered that neither of us was the little princesses that our Mom expected us to be.  We would constantly get in trouble in ballet class, but we wouldn't care.  We would constantly be talking (more like giggling) in ballet class, forced to there, and our teacher would take sewing tape and put it over our mouths.  That would generally last like 5 seconds because we would instantly start talking with the tape on anyway and that made us giggle even harder.  

Both of our moms, while they loved us, probably lived in a constant state of exasperation.  Looking back, I can't really blame them.  I was a handful and so was she.  

One summer afternoon, Marisa and I were prepping to swim in her pool and we were walking through the living room with our towels and our swimsuits on.  Shirley, Marisa's Mom, looks up from the newspaper she was reading and gives Marisa this look.  Mind you, Marisa and I were probably going through puberty at the time.  Both of us were ridiculously awkward and very naive as far as the world was concerned.  I don't even think we cussed at the time!  

Well, Shirley gave Marisa this extremely critical look, and then she says: "Marisa, that suit is too small.  I can see your twat."  

Marisa turns bright red and yells "MOM!" And as she's doing that, I spin around and ask:  "Ooh!  What's a twat!"  

I was all grins, too.  I didn't know what it was!  I was clueless!  I thought it was just a fun word to say.  Twat, twat, twat.  I look Marisa up and down seeing if I can determine from context what a twat is exactly.  

Shirley then proceeds to turn red, but not the embarrassed kind of red.  This was the not-quite-angry red, but the red that says something to the effect of "oh my god, this child is a moron and I have to explain the word twat now."  

Shirley proceeded to look at me, her eyes narrow and annoyed, and says "Jess, your twat is your..." and she waved her hand around where her crotchular area.  

"Oooooh!!!!!"  My eyes widened and as I turn back to Marisa, I look towards her twat and then proceed to say "I can't see your twat, it's covered by your suit."  

Shirley, once again, looks annoyed.  She proceeds to explain that the suit is too tight, that Marisa needs to go change.  

I am now under the firm impression that explaining the term "twat" to me was quite enough for Shirley and she didn't really feel like teaching me what the term "camel toe" meant.  

I wouldn't learn about camel toe until much later and it wasn't from Shirley (I actually think I heard the term from Marisa).  

Marisa and I stayed friends through high school and it wasn't until college that we kind of went our separate ways.  I was in northern Indiana and she was still in Kentucky.  Our lives took divergently different paths.  We found each other again on facebook and started talking.  I found out when we moved to Florida that she not only lived in the same town where I was moving, but she would be living only 10 minutes away from me.  We have been talking, texting and having fun together ever since.  We have even had slumber parties just like we used to!

Last night Shirley passed away.  I'll be following Marisa back home to Madisonville on Sunday for the funeral.  I got the chance to see Shirley a few weeks ago when I went home for my Dad's retirement.  It was so nice to see her.  I remember hugging her when I was little and thinking she was just so solid and I always felt like she was this stern force of nature.  I also wondered why she and my Mom were not friends because they had so much in common.   This time, she seemed fragile, but she was so happy to see that we were still friends and we had found our way back into each others lives. 

Rest in peace, Shirley.  You will be missed. 

And thank you for teaching me the word twat.