recently i talked with a more-than-a-decade-old friend. the night we met, the very minute before we met, i walked up to his bottom-floor apartment in one of those shoulda-been condemned houses, and i sang through the box fan in the living room window. it was the lone flawless moment of the night. in the hours to follow, i was as ugly as the house he lived in. i wish the beer was to blame, but it was just me being me. he told me years later what he thought of me that night, but i don't think it was very good, so i pretend that i forget. for the first month or two of knowing him, he had hair like morrissey. then he cut it, and then he fell for me, and i for him, and everything went the way of the birds in winter. we were young enough that it didn't matter. we had years to mess up and start over. and we have. he's a daddy now. when i see pictures of him with his baby, it's one of those moments when feeling happy for someone else makes you feel warmer than you could ever explain. it's magical. one day, during one of our email talks, he told me he could never understand why i'm still single, because he thinks i'm "like a box full of stars, or some sort of phenomena like that." it was one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said. and it makes me remember that old friends are precious, even if they'll always be far away and unseen.
i am a lucky girl.