The Starfish Girls

Three years ago, a crazy hat-wearing retiree called Cheryl put a post up on my local noticeboard.

“Does anyone in Muizenberg play Scrabble?”

That’s all it took.

A few women turned up for those games in the weeks that followed. There was Heather, who hadn’t been out in public since the pandemic hit. There was Jocelynn, who had moved to South Africa from Zimbabwe, and there was me—the person who thought responding to Scrabble games on the internet was probably a Very Bad Idea™.

In time, we found out we were all fascinated with sea critters and walks on the beach, so pretty soon, The Scrabblers became The Starfish Girls. We’d meet at ridiculous hours of the morning to look for starfish in rock pools. We’d do endless hikes to the top of mountains and, occasionally, we’d even play Scrabble.

These days, we are family. The world hasn’t treated us all equally, though. Jocelynn had cancer surgery yesterday, and Heather is leaving for an Athens holiday as I write. I’ll be living in her home while she’s away because her doggo loves me more than any of her other friends. I’d do anything for Heather. I’d do anything for Jocelynn and Cheryl, too.

Cheryl has found true love and moved to the opposite side of the country, but she still visits us a few times each year, and if she’s not around, we spend time with her daughter. The Starfish Girls live in one another’s pockets if we can.

When Bobby Dog died, I gave up my walks around the estuary. They represented the doggo I’d loved beyond all reason, so Heather helped me to reclaim the space by walking that damned trail every day for three months. Yes, three. I have no problems with the estuary anymore. When I relapsed on my depression, Heather made herself available to me every damned day. My Starfish Girls are the family I never had, all because a showed up to play Scrabble one morning even though I thought it was a scary idea to be around strangers.

This is one of many reasons my religion is “showing up.” I show up on the page. I show up in my clients’ inboxes. I show up to meet new people, and I show up when Jocelynn is recovering from surgery or Heather’s too tired to walk doggo.

I grew up to the echo of distance. My family were never there for one another, and my childhood home never taught me how to receive love, but Heather did. Jocelynn did. Cheryl did because I showed up.

I took the risk of revealing my real feelings and flaws, and so I’m not alone in this world anymore.