As you may have gleaned from my disjointed posts this week, I am at a rather conflicted point in my life. We all have these moments, of course, but I have rarely been at such a crossroads at any point in my 47 years. It's made me feel as if I am cushioned in a thick layer of cotton--moving around the world as if all is normal, but not feeling anything---not the chill of the wind, nor the solidness of the pavement beneath my feet, nor the touch of a hand on my arm. It's oddly soothing to feel so inoculated and oddly alarming to feel so detached.
My friend Christo had sent me a message on Friday evening requesting some weekend time for "girl talk." It was a golden invitation at a perfect moment.
We met today on a glorious Fall afternoon on the Upper West Side and we stole into one of those anonymous eateries tucked into the many storefronts that line the endless streets of this city. Over lunch and coffee, we reconnected. I found myself spilling the events of the past few weeks to my friend. He did the same. And in his inimitable sage fashion, he put a great many things into perspective for me.
The two hours we passed talking was the best therapy I could ask for. And if you're reading this, Christo, thank you.
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4 comments:
I need my own Cristo.
No, Amy. He's mine. :)
My pleasure, glamorous lady. Trust me, I got just as much--if not more--as you did out of our time together. Still on for Saturday after Boot Camp? I'm counting on it.
We are on, dude! Looking forward to it.
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