My friend Laura has a default face. She makes it when she’s tired, and it basically involves staring straight ahead with her mouth hanging open. It always makes me laugh because it is funny to see someone so engaged and active default to the closet thing to being comatose while still actually being awake in a matter of seconds. Her default face has become such a constant part of who she is that I would be surprised if I didn’t see it at least a couple of times a week.

But that isn’t her only default quality — it’s just her funniest.

Last week, I said goodbye to Laura for the second time in less than a year. This time was more difficult than the last because this time she’s taking off to hike the Appalachian Trail. While this is wonderful and amazing for her, it means she’ll be without a cell phone for six months. I’m dreading this, because Laura is my default friend.

In the short time I’ve known her, Laura has always been there. Jamie, Becka, Christina, Jacky, Blair — in their own ways, my other friends are constants in my life, but when it comes to a default way of living, Laura’s got it. In the best way I could ever imagine.

While I get upset and frustrated with tiny things, she has patience and kindness that I can only pray for (and I’m a teacher). When my car was broken into, she was the one who found the service to fix it the next day and the one who vacuumed the glass out of the car while I wallowed.

When a new prospective date enters my life, it’s Laura who reminds me not to rush or settle or do anything else that will cause me pain down the line. Her first words are a reminder of my continued worth and value, not exclamations fueled by the momentary excitement of the situation itself.

When we rock climb, I take the “color blind” route that involves putting my feet on whatever peg I can reach and trying my best to pull myself up the wall. She’s always at the bottom of the wall encouraging me, pushing me on, never mentioning that I’m kind of missing the whole challenge part when I hop from red to blue to green to yellow instead of staying on one set of colors.

She has never once lost her patience or stopped encouraging me. I would get a little tired of seeing someone hang on for dear life 15 feet up a wall when they’re securely strapped in, but she never does.

When it’s my turn to stand at the bottom and watch her, I’m always struck by her consistency and focus. No matter how hard the route or how much her legs shake, she never cheats. It’s the perfect example of how she lives her life: on a constant, meaningful default mode – it seems to be so natural she doesn’t even have to think of it.

Last week, we threw a party to celebrate Laura’s departure to the great East Coast wilderness. As we discussed possible trail names for her, “Default” came up, along with a few stories and an impersonation of the face. I think we missed the point a bit with her nickname. To everyone sitting in that room, who is sad that we are losing her once again, and to me especially, Laura is Default not because of a silly face she makes when she’s tired, but because of the way she has chosen to live her life.

Hers is a life of gentleness and openness. A life that defaults to the best of responses when most of us default to anger, frustration, tears or bitterness. I want to live a default life. I want to act in kindness without having to think about it. I want to be steady with the choices I make and the life I’m trying to lead instead of constantly second guessing what makes me happy or secure or successful. I want to take a deep breath and talk myself down from the high-strung, multi-colored peg wall I so often find myself clinging to during the day before I’m on her couch having her do it for me.

Besides, I don’t have the luxury of her help anymore. At least for the next six months. I’m going to miss Laura’s default face, but I’m going to miss her default way of living so much more.

2 Responses to “Default”

1. Peggy Seidel Says:
   July 16th, 2008 at 10:49 am

   Thank you so much, Sam, for reminding me how much of my mother, Laura’s Grammy Vaughan than shines through her.

2. This Ordinary Day » Pony Says:
   April 18th, 2009 at 12:02 am

   [...] She was fine, clean, nice and had been a good friend. But one of my closest friends in Houston was moving away and I was moving into her room and becoming Olivia’s roommate. Secretly, I wanted to move in with [...]

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