inpromtu

Days like today are extremely out of character for me. The more they occur, the more I wonder where they've been all my life. Oh, right! Now I remember. It's been rudely brushed under the rug by my need for plans; need for perfection. Desire for a precise time-- that I'd be characteristically and embarrassingly late for-- and an exact location. Organization is part of who I am. Organization geek if you will. Labels, color coding, sub-folders all make me happy. Venturing beyond the norm, impromptu girlfriend dates make me even happier.

I'm coming to realize that friendships are work. They don't just happen but bloom when nurtured with the proper care. Life doesn't always allot time for such nurture. It is then, creativity swings through. Dinner plans with girlfriends on Wednesday night led to an unexpected "what are you doing? meet me at Target in fifteen." There is always something you absolutely need at Target. I was up, dressed and parked in ten. Target led to a Publix run for dessert where we ran into our hostess, who was frantically racing us to her house, in the market. It ended in hugs and giggles and sighs of relief that we were all together. Those giggles continued over stir fry and bottles of wine and strawberry shortcake. Strawberry shortcake made by a big Cool Whip advocate. Yea, you heard that correctly. Cool Whip advocate. And giggles turned to belly laughs.

We drank too much wine for a weeknight complete with AM text messages about pounding headaches and how there is 'no way it was only Thursday.' We nurtured our friendships; gave it sunlight and water and sang sweet songs to it. Found beauty in spontaneity; an escape from the whirlwind reality we're faced with at twenty-something years old.

I'm already starving for another impromptu adventure of nurture, of meaty conversation, of gossip over a masseuse named Lester and how much we love certain things.

Things that are reserved only for the comfort of future fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants girls' nights.

Giggle sweet nothings

One of those I'm-in-a-funk-and-have-no-idea-why kind of days. How badly I want to write something wonderful; something I can sip in at a later date and love it. How I'm convinced that will make this bad  weird indescribable mood more enjoyable. Well today, I've got nothing.

A day where I long for my sister. Not sorority sisters. Not best friends. Pure flesh and blood that knows what and how and when to say exactly the right thing. She never has the answer and she knows that. We talk things out; we talk life out. Memories reemerge to link us to better days; to happier times. We giggle sweet nothings and we hold hands. Hold tight, linking not only hands but souls knowing, we're never alone.

Regardless, today I feel a little something like that. Alone. Disconnected. Lengths of time from my best friend; my greatest confidant; my other half

They call them "roots" for a reason

I've been waiting all day to spill my guts through my keyboard. I'll cut to the chase.

What I've identified myself as since the day I can remember:

-a Jersey girl
-someone's best friend

When I say since the time I can remember, I really mean two years old. She was my right hand and I was her left. We were one in the same; soul mates if you will. My mom tells me stories of us finishing each other's sentences, sharing thoughts without words...essentially, being one mind in two bodies.

We faded in and out of friendship when we went to different elementary schools. We only saw each other once a week during those years; those years I had no idea what I had.


"Maybe our girlfriends are our soulmates and guys are just people to have fun with."
— Candace Bushnell


I moved when I was twelve and sometime after that, we became closer than ever from hundreds of miles away. I started to appreciate and cherish this long-time friendship that we swore would last till the day we died. We'd be maid of honors in weddings, we'd be godmother's and aunt's to children, we'd grow old together, cause chaos in our wheelchairs-- we'd do it all, side-by-side, forever & always.

The same way I'd always be a Jersey girl, I'd always be her best friend and she'd always be mine. You know where this is going, '...or so I thought.'

It's been nearly ten years since I've left the Garden State and everything I'd ever know. Now-a-days, I wake up, I go about my day often without thinking about my past. I look outside my window at the Gulf of Mexico, and that house on Kettle Creek seems a faded memory; a figment of my childhood; a girl I once was. I swore to my Grandmother, day in and day out, that when I was 'a big girl' I would come back home to her. I would 'return to my roots' simply because 'it's where I belong.'

I had no idea then, what my future would hold. I have no idea now, what my future might hold.

Almost ten years and all I have to show for it is a box full of pictures, a hand full of memories, deleted numbers from my phone and a deactivated Facebook so they are unable to find me. I am not running from my past, I am moving beyond it. I am forcing myself to cut the ties with some of the greatest people I've ever known, simply because, they were people I had known-- they are no longer people I know.

It's scary and it's sad. It's confirming my biggest fear. We are growing up and moving on. Things are changing and change is my biggest fear. I've dealt with change all my life and the one thing I've learned, it will never end. Just as sure as the sun rises in the morning and sets in the evening, things will change as they please. It cannot be controlled; change runs wild and runs free. It does not ask for opinions or approval. Change marches to the beat of it's own drum-- most times, when you're not even in the mood for music at all.

I lost my friend and I lost my identity all in one fell swoop... or did I?

Our friendship was one of the best I'd ever known but I know, with this, there will be more. Different I'm sure, for that one was unique in itself, but wonderful none-the-less.

As for my identity, I am finding they are called roots for a reason. Think about it, the roots are the base of a flower. They are far deeper than the eye can see; far below the surface and the beautiful flower which we enjoy. They are the foundation and the reason the flower exists, however, no one pays mind to the roots for they are so far gone into the ground that are almost irrelevant. They are irrelevant to the spectator but everything to the flower-- the key to its growth and the means of growth into such beauty and delicacy.

The flower will never forget, but, without doubt, has grown far beyond the roots of its beginnings.

I will never forget my roots, for they are my foundation of my being; of the woman I have become. Still, they are far gone, so far behind me, I cannot show them to the world. All I can show is the beauty I possess here and now. One day, today will be my roots-- the roots and foundation of the person I have yet become.

Today, I am the flower of my yesterdays and the roots to my tomorrows.