My First Post in About A Year...

I had an amazing experience last weekend and felt compelled to write. I guess it helped that I was with two friends who are both writers. So here it goes:.

Healing from Blue Eyes

Sometimes, I get so worn down that I just get used to it. It becomes my new “normal.” I go from task to task with no recollection of how or if I finished anything. Laundry gets washed folded and put away, groceries are purchased, beds get made…but there’s no joy or even conscious knowledge that these things are complete.

Then, one day, the sun shines again. This time, for me, it arrived the in the shape of Melissa and Jenee. These women are 2 of the Ya Ya group that I met through that online book club/message board 5 years ago. We met up in the home city of one of the group for 3 years running and then the recession hit, some of us got divorced, some of us moved…in other words, life got in the way.

Anyway, back to sunshine’s arrival. They rolled into town on a Wednesday night and time seemed to be suspended for 4 whole days. The clocks didn’t tick. The only sign that time was passing were the pictures Jenee took of the view from my porch. There was one with the sun shining and one with a risen moon.

You must understand one thing about Ya Ya’s. When they hug your body, they hug your soul too. You don’t want them to let you go because it feels good and honest and safe when they’re hugging you. You just know they will help you slay any dragons that have the audacity to show their faces at the party and then will pour you a cool cocktail and hand you a cool compress for your forehead.

And for me, on this trip, the fellow dragon slayers had blue eyes.

Jenee’s bright, almost turquoise, blues dance with mischief. They help you get the eccentricities of her family. They share her joy of her soulmate/husband and they share her sadness of being without children. They glow when she’s talking about her writing. They even cross a little when she’s had too much whiskey.

Melissa’s blues remind of that beloved pair of jeans that fit perfectly…you know, the ones that hug every curve. Her eyes had a sadness that I wish I could erase, but they are so so wise. They reflect her love of all things masculine. They giggle with you when you’re acting silly and they can absorb everything in a room in 3 seconds flat.

I hadn’t seen these women in about 3 years so we had lots to catch up on. Oh Dear Lord in Heaven, did we talk! We yapped every morning and into the afternoon before one of us said, “Ok, let’s get going before we spend the day in our jammies and switch from coffee to booze.” We talked about, and this list is by no means inclusive, food, kids, cocktails, men, dogs, cars, books, girlfriends, shopping, shoes, dresses, parents/families, simple pleasures, music, movies, Seinfeld, health issues, drug addicts in Union Square and coffee.

We sweat, we laughed till there were tears, there was one leg with a cigarette burn, there was drunk dialing to Atlanta, there were stinky subways, there were street feet, there were parking issues, there were what seemed like 18 wash clothes and 47 towels in my bathroom, we drank, we ate Nathan’s hot dogs and drank beers on the beach (the way nature intended), there were fireworks (both in my heart and in the sky), we met new Ya Ya’s, there was lots of Facebooking…in other words, there was lots of stuff that was good for my soul.

These women don’t judge me. They don’t make me feel bad for my bad choices, they celebrate my good choices. They were patient with my daughter when she was talking their ears off. They scratched and cuddled my dog. They took beautiful pictures.

They both had long drives home, but hopefully the bliss of the weekend carried them over the miles that now lie between us.

As I cleaned up after their departure, I was happy. I consciously finished the laundry, washed the dishes and did general straightening. I checked each task off my mental list of things-to-do. When all the chores were complete, I showered, sliced myself a tomato and poured EVOO and balsamic over it and ate it on my porch. I tried to imagine what that view of the bridge would be like for the person who has never seen it before. When I got into bed that night, I was so refreshingly sleepy, not out-of-my-mind bleary-eyed exhausted. I slept the sleep of the blissful. I held the laughter and the sistah-friends’ blue eyed love with me. And for the first time in a long time, even though I was alone, I wasn’t lonely.