I just got back from my annual tour around the Boston area visiting friends and family. And I’ve debated several ways to write about this and decided I’ll cover it in a few posts. The first will be quickly followed by the second because while I hesitate to reflect about last year, I think this is important. And for some reason it seems better to bury it under another post quickly.
Last year I was a bridesmaid at one of my best friend’s wedding. We were college roommates and she got me through some very difficult times (let’s see – a floor full of drunken freshmen boys, that CRAZY french lit course where she persuaded me to take the honors section, my sex ed talk, all those tears I shed in Paris, that topless episode on the beach in Nice and I have to be nice because she may have those pictures, the car wreck, the drunken night that followed the car wreck, all the way through graduation). Here we are (from a visit in March 2007 and the wedding, that’s my back):
And when I got home from her wedding, after lots of heart-to-heart girl conversation with other brides maids, and lots of change happening in my own life, I felt jostled and out of place and this is what happened. And a cascade followed where this space turned into a break up blog and most people following know the details.
So I met up with the girls in the lovely town of Yarmouth where the sea air coming in through all the open windows in the house finds a way to relax my every worry for a little reunion/vacation this past weekend. Needless to say we all had a lot of catching up to do not having conversed in a year’s time. I breezed over details of the past year with eyes rolling at every mistake I made and a low gaze when I spoke about everyone I ended up hurting and I attempted to end the story with my current state (which is far from dismal to say the least). And, as usual, it seems like I’m the only one who doesn’t hear myself speak.
I can always tell what I unknowingly emphasized in a story by how people react. It goes to show how once I get started babbling I really let my mouth go and don’t listen to a word I have to say. (yeah, this is why I tend to only drink in private company.) So the girls looked my way, somber-faced, with every intention of drilling into my head that any guy I decide to be with needs to know how fabulous and great I am and I need to know that I deserve just that. So I shut up, trying to think about what I had said, and was kind of like “umm, did you guys not just hear what I said? I was a bitch to several people last fall. Seriously. a Bitch.” And then they told me what I wasn’t hearing.
So I’m sitting there eating a chocolate espresso torte with some lemon ginger tea thinking about this. And you know that sense of relief when you realize finally what exactly it is that has been bothering you? (obviously I’m a little slow in my realizations.) I exhaled, took another bite of dessert, and felt reassured.
And I said out loud “you know, I really didn’t think I would come back here. I loved the wedding last year. I loved being here. I loved that whole weekend. But for some reason, I didn’t think I would ever come to visit again and I’m glad I did.” And my friend turned to me and said, “really you’ve come full circle.”
So I thought about this when I was in the taxi Tuesday evening going from South Station to Logan to head back home. And maybe I was tired and being a little melodramatic and really wrapped up in my thoughts, but I got a little teary-eyed. For several reasons actually. But that full circle bit, we’ve all been there enough to know what it means. It’s like moving out of an apartment you really loved, or throwing away a tee-shirt that you wore at least once a week for a few years straight, and remember when I blogged about my childhood cat that passed away? It’s like that. Only I didn’t know when my cat died that in a few months I would adopt Jack, the mutt that divides my mid-20’s into life before Jack and after Jack. So those watery eyes that I was trying to hide from the taxi driver? I was sad. And happy. It was a good weekend.