Magnolia Strikes Back…

What is it about girlfriends that make us all weepy, drippy, sniffly fools?  Here I was, minding my own business, playing with my iTunes, when a friend comes over, bearing Magnolia frosted goodies.  All of a sudden, I’ve consumed an entire box of kleenex (the good kind, with the real softness built in, like the puppy says) and a my second glass of pinot, and my eyes look like I walked out of the Tyson scene in The Hangover.

Granted, it was my first night in the apartment by myself, and I’m glad to have her.  I wasn’t sure how it would feel coming home after a week to a shared place I must pack up shortly – but knew I was grateful to not be lugging a bag to 42nd St.  I approached our stoop, and looked at the buzzer that bears both our last names.  That was like taking a bullet.

But I persevered, watched some old 30 Rocks (I dare someone to name a better comedic actor than Alec), and was doing ok.  Until the doorbell rang.  God love her.  It’s 11:10pm, she’s still sitting beside me and working on a paper for school.  I checked my email to find two high school friends who have read my blog and felt compelled to write to me.  Their stories are private, but gave me such a renewed sense of strength, the strength you can only receive from those not seen in 14 years – those who feel it necessary to cross that threshold of time and tell you that you are going to be just fine.  A million times, thank you.

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