i spent a lovely twenty hours in the company of two darkly-curly-haired girls i don’t get to see often enough. when various people called the one whose house it was she chatted briefly then said, “listen, tho, i have two high skool friends over …” funny: i don’t feel like a high skool anything. i guess it’s a convenient label. we rolled our eyes at high skool for the most part and discussed college, marriage, grad skool, when we’ll be adults; baked no-pudge fudge and ate popcorn with sesame oil (hey, that’s good stuff); and watched titanic — yes, titanic — in two parts. and wept. at least i did. i always do.
we slept three to a bed, well, dreamlessly, and woke to continue the conversation until near sunset today. we’re very different, except for hair and height (and body image problems and faith and class …) rather, i should say, we are as different as three female honor students the same age from the same background raised in two-parent liberal households within 20 miles of each other can be while sharing a sense of humor. not that different at all, i guess. i should remember that more often. just like perhaps i’m not that different than i was three years ago when i couldn’t imagine being more than 20 miles apart from them. nostalgia: my drug of choice.