When you expect a weekend to be brilliant it absolutely has to live within or above your expectations or one becomes mildly depressed. Don’t think I’m crazy, pretty sure I’m accurate. And equally, the best times are often the ones that aren’t planned, predicted or pressure-cooked. Nature of the beast, Murphy’s Law, whatevs. I was never more aware of how right these truths were than I was the four years I attended college. It was almost laughable. The second we started creating buzz around the Biggest Party Ever, we knew instantly that we would wake up the next morning thinking that the pre-party around the living room futon would be the highlight. It’s just how it is. Expectations are like 5lb weights on a balloon.
This weekend I had no expectations (I just knew truths, which were: the friends I was visiting were the gems of the universe. Even if we were to yell at each other, it would have been hilarious and memorable in some random good way. I digress...)
This weekend was spent with former college teammates and friends; Walshie, Fo, Em, JB, Hodge-Podge and Soy Sauce. Their nicknames don’t even begin to hold a mirror to a candle to light the justice they deserve. They are simply, outrageously awesome. And because I don’t get to see them often, it is easy to forget just how good and filled-up you can be when you are around people who make you want to be a better person. I am so lucky to have them in my life.
I could regale you with hilarious moments as we ran our Converses through the city, made friends with the parking attendant, terrorized the men’s neckties at Filene’s Basement, danced with shoe salesmen, rocked some bars, more bars, more dance floors, got a waitress named Kara promoted and reaffirmed why the Moscow Mule is the bomb but only if your throat is as tough as a cowboy’s hands. We were invincible.
At the end of the night, when it was early morning and my 29-almost-30 year old feet were on fire with happiness and a Russian mule was still kicking the back of my throat, we made our way to Arlington, where we proceeded to eat our way through a loaf of Trader Joe’s Cinnamon Raisin Bread, Gluten-Free Pizza, Almonds, Chocolate Chips, Biscottis and dry-roasted Cashews. Looking around the table I saw hearts bigger than the moon, friends who have been with me for years, strangers to me once. These random insights I am grateful for. It’s pinching your skin and seeing the flush rush to the surface as if to say, “yes, then. I am alive and this is real.”
Random moments of the day spill out in raucous laughter, a few non-sequitur quotations of Summer Heights High, more handfuls of nuts and slowly goodnights. Good Nights. A good night’s sleep in a house full of friends in a world full of people who land in the laps and lives of other people and become family. Everyday this happens and we are given this gift of sitting late at night, eating cashews and wiping laughter off our faces so we can finally, finally settle for sleep and a brand new day. See what awaits us there.
x-to-the-oh,
kay
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