No need for catchy titles...
I've not been much into female bonding. And I've not been much into pouring my heart out either - traditionally, I've shouldered my burdens alone (personal choice) and tried to shoulder others' troubles too.
Fiday night was a most natural amalgamation of both, though. She's a relatively new friend, but we're very alike, and from the day we met, both of us got on like a house on fire.
Standing by the sea, the two of us talked, really talked. Me about my past, things that I think made me what I am, things I've done that I'm not too proud of, and things I'd like people to see, but that just haven't been seen so far. And she listened. And vice versa.
Just like the sea we were standing by, she had a wonderful way of drawing into me, drawing out the driftwood, and washing it someplace far away. Burning the wounds I created by talking, with salt, but healing them as she did so.
We lit a cigarette as I talked about some of my most painful past, and with the smoke, I felt myself exhale some of my anxiety out of me. And as we walked back to the car in companionable, newfound closeness, we agreed on one thing: we may not be ideal specimens, but we've turned out ok. More than ok - we're turned out pretty darned fine.
If you ever read this, you know who you are. Thank you.
posted by La Eposa @ 1:21 AM
