arrival

Flying, with a good girl friend, a cornflower bridesmaid dress tucked between poetry books and a book about the perils of Mount Everest. Finding that the bridesmaid dress will need to be altered for each bridesmaid, though all smaller, which is flattery.


Staying with a girl friend from high school, one who packed it all up, adventured halfway across the country to Charlotte, North Carolina, to start over, to find a new pattern of life. She opened the doors of her home to us with true Southern hospitality, eager to show us the highlights of this new place.


Good food, good company. Open faced sandwiches, fresh flowers, laughter.


And, of course: some sort of drink (M-something Wong?)--32 ounces [limit, two] in miniature pitchers, something that slides along the tongue and eases up already loose conversation.


We are all amazed at the vegetation. I say something about how the glaciers moved down here so long ago, carving out the mountains, spreading seeds. Everything is so wild, so lush. Green is an even deeper hue here, with trees furious for sunshine and kudzu tapering off into the woods.


I am with two women in very different places in their lives. I am to be married in three weeks. Nikki is celebrating her single freedom and is happy; she tells us that, with italics. And I believe her. And Chris is newly single, discovering ways to celebrate, finding ways to heal.


Despite this, there is a quiet beauty in our trio of friendship, and for those who are not there, but part of the girls from high school, the ones I've kept close to my heart. And as I fall asleep, I think of how lucky I am to have these girls, to have so many girls in my life, the kinds of friendships that seep into your life, that spread out and infect your heart, keeping that luck moving, keeping you safe.