There's this friend I have back home.. She's my people. We'll call her Vee.
Vee's different from most women I know. She says the F word. So do I. From the moment I met her, she seemed safe. Like it was a waste of her time to know if my kids ate kale or wonder why I had on the same ratty cargo pants whenever we'd see each other. She asked questions about my life before kids like she knew that was the secret to owning my heart. It is. You can always tell if someone values their time with you if they ask you questions that show your guts when you answer.
Vee's kind but not pushover schmaltzy. She's crazy smart but not a bit precocious about it. Vee's eyes tighten when she listens. She's safe for me because I tend to over think a conversation before it even begins. Vee never lets me end a sentence in "but whatever," because she can tell whatever is important enough to solve.
I miss Vee. It was a mean trick to play on a vagabond sap to rip me away from her accepting air a few short months after being surrounded by it. We had so much more wine to go.
But Vee doesn't wallow. She is a strong working mom who has crafted a creatively-driven life for herself that I admire and aspire for myself. Vee knows I'm sad to be new again but she urges me to fly. She allows me tears to grieve but texts me pep talks on Fat Tuesday and names of venues I am not to miss if I care anything about my musical soul. I do. She figured as much.
Women are tricky. I don't readily find many safe to walk next to, drink with, or borrow their dresses. Bonding doesn't come around a lot because I'm a strange energy field repelling and attracting simultaneously. Please do come in. I'll be leaving soon.
The funny thing is Vee and I don't even know each other's middle name. We are just as much strangers as we are sisterfriends. Maybe that's the only way this thing works. Give it your all but take an umbrella.
I miss Vee's air and the way I felt beautiful in it.
I'm so ugly all over again but I'm hoping it won't last long.