Girlfriends Are the Best!

When I was young, all my friends were girls. We would talk about boys, chase boys, and obsess about boys. But we were not friends with boys. We were 13. 

I lived in the valley, and, yes, I was a "valley girl." I still curse that movie. Gag me! Totally! And I talked like that. I even had a copy of how to be a valley girl! (And apparently, I should have hung onto that book!) 

From valley to full-on 80s. I got a perm and cut the collars out of my sweatshirts so that they hung over my shoulder. I practiced dive rolls across our front lawn until I could do one perfectly at "top" running speed. OK -- if you have no idea what I'm talking about right now, you may have no business reading this post any further! But because I'm practicing tolerance in 2020, forced tolerance due to COVID, I'll give you a hint: Flashdance! Girls remember the dive roll and that she was a kick-ass dancer. Guys remember Jennifer Beals pulling the cord that released a bucket of water over her head! 

But I'm seriously digressing. 

Today I was returning from SUP yoga when it hit me that my friends are all girls again. I never thought I would have girlfriends again. In my 20s I climbed -- A LOT -- and all my friends were guys. I never thought I'd see 30 and I certainly never thought I would live to be old, you know, 31! 

Somewhere between 31 and 49 my entire life shifted. I left the world of traveling the globe to climb mountains for sandy beaches, sunrise runs, and sunset paddles. The people I find interesting have something worth listening to because they've lived a whole life, not just part of an existence. And at the end of the day, I want to chat with one of my girlfriends to hear about their day and share mine. Not because I don't like the company of boys but because my girlfriends are important. They are part of me and I like to think I am part of them. Some of my friends I've known for a lifetime and others are new. But we're all the same. We're girls. And together we can talk about boys. 

Yesterday my childhood bestie sent me this picture. It was taken in a photo booth at the Northridge Mall in the San Fernando Valley. We were 13. A lifetime has passed since this picture was taken and we are not those two little girls anymore. But I can't imagine another person I would rather like to talk to than her. 

I feel so lucky! I live where the sun is out everyday. It's summer year-round. I'm 1.7 miles from the Pacific Ocean (as the crow flies). I'm pretty well assured it will not snow within 100 miles of my house and I can permanently retire my windshield ice scrapper. But more than that, I have an amazing group of girlfriends near me. And even my girlfriends that are far away are somehow so close at the same time. Today when I think about getting older, I imagine wearing red hats with purple feathers, drinking elixirs on the beach, and watching the sunset over the ocean. 

To all my girlfriends -- you are amazing and I love you all! 

Just after 9 pm

Ten years seemed anti-climatic. I scheduled my final oncology visit for 9 am to celebrate 10 years. I can't even remember what I did. I likely walked Theodore. Maybe I had a cider. In the end, it was just another day.

Just after 9 pm today, I realized it was May 18th. May 18th eleven years ago doctors ripped apart my body and tore out what was left of my soul. Today. I'm alone. I finished a few things and I'm just sitting here. Listening to music. Crying. Again. I can't get out of my skin. I can't run. And I gave up hiding a long time ago. Theodore follows me around the house. For now, he's snuggled up next to my left leg. His breath is warm and I can feel him breathe.

In light of the pandemic, we're told we'll find a new normal. There is no new normal. It's not magic where you wake up one day and the past doesn't hurt anymore. It does. It is still part of you -- part of me. My past is the house that built me. It doesn't matter how many rocks I throw in the river or how many times I burn sage I can't escape the ghosts.

But time heals. This year, I didn't even realize it was May 18th until just after nine. Next year, will I even remember on May 18th? Or will it be the 19th? I know that I will never be the same. I will never be that amazing girl so full of life. It was "lifed" out of me. Besides, after all the surgeries, I'm not sure if I'm still a girl? If all your parts have been riddled with disease and removed, are you still a girl? I know I am not whole. But am I still a girl? 

I was told I am like a tree bending in the wind. All of the things I have been through have made my tree strong, deeply rooted. That had I not gone through those things, in the first storm, I would break. But even big tall beautiful trees fall over.

Some days it is just a matter of walking, putting one foot in front of the other. Saying thank you. Thank you for these steps. Thank you for Theodore. Thank you for the sun, the moon. Thank you for the flowers. Thank you to the universe so that the universe will listen, reach out its hand to carry you. Today is one of those days.

Raise a glass to another year. In search of normal only to realize I've never been f-ing
normal!