I have this friend. No, really. I do. This is not some moi-as-hypothetical-person device I am using to be evasive about my own life. Could we please move on? Okay. So, I have this friend who is experiencing considerable anxiety today. She is headed out of town to meet up with a dear friend. A friend of the opposite sex. They have been friends, even platonic roommates for a time, for their entire adult lives. Both of whom find themselves single once more after long-standing marriages to other people. Who are now thinking, hmmm, maybe about one another. While I don't envy her the can we remain friends if the sex thing doesn't work out conundrum, I do envy her the sweet, brain fogging anxiousness that accompanies such a quandary. Because the anticipation of an event can sometimes be even better than the thing when it happens. Or if. And, at least for me, there is joy in the discovery that I can still feel this way. That despite the fact that I feel a bit like a jaded lady where romance is concerned, I am grateful for remaining distinctly unjaded in attitude at the heart of things. Hope is that feathered thing that flies, it seems, even when a bit tattered and torn. I wish this friend good fortune today. That she'll have fun catching up and hanging out with an old and dear friend. Relax. Go with the flow. Enjoy being present in the moment of a maybe that could become a for real. And to wear really, really nice underwear. Just in case.
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