I used to be popular. I used to have friends. Like, real friends. Not the standard by which social media describes friends, or I’d have 670 friends. And by social media standards, that’s low! But I used to have a social calendar, filled with birthday dinners, movies, and get-togethers. I used to be part of a monthly book club, which was less about the book and more about the wine. I used to hang with the girls every Monday night to watch Ally McBeal, which was also more about the wine…so what happened?
I loved those days! The days of piling in the car with a group of friends on a sunny Saturday morning and driving to the Newport Mansions in Rhode Island, with nothing on the agenda but sightseeing and shopping! Or hopping on the ferry to Martha’s Vineyard with just my sunglasses and oversized beach bag.
There were those weekends spent on Cape Cod; beach by day, and dancing by night. I remember the excitement I felt every Friday afternoon when I hit Hyannis, and knew the weekend would be jam packed with friends, food and fun!
The weekend I went to Newport for a company event, and ended up getting tattoo. Or driving to Boston with my friend Suzy and getting my belly button pierced, and not telling a single living soul.
Back then I lived on a 3rd floor apartment in Quincy with hardwood floors and built-ins. I had a sunroom off the kitchen, where I used to have my morning coffee. The walls were ivory stucco and I had French doors in the living room. I had white furniture and glass tables. I had books. Lots and lots of books.
My friends always knew where to find me if I wasn’t already with them; The Varsity Club in Quincy. My local stomping grounds. Just minutes from my house. From there we’d go to The Beachcomber for last call, and to see our favorite band, The Cattunes.
Once in a while we’d drive to Johnny D’s in Somerville, just outside of Boston, to check out the up-and-coming blues bands. Life was exciting.
I miss that life. I miss that girl. But more than that, I miss my friends. Life has been good to me and I’m incredibly blessed to have an amazing, like super amazing husband, and three beautiful children. I love being a wife and mother, and I love the life we’ve created.
But occasionally, as I’m folding yet another load of socks and underwear, or emptying the dishwasher for the hundredth time in 3 days, I reminisce of the “me” I used to know. The life I used to know. The carefree, no responsibility, full of freedom kind-of-girl that could take off on a whim. The girl who had some pretty phenomenal, true friends.
And I want to apologize to that girl; the girl who was fiercely independent after finally freeing herself from years of abuse – the girl who wanted to live in the bustling city of Boston, travel to New York and spend a summer in Paris. The girl who didn’t worry about back-to-school shopping, theatre class and Boy Scouts; open houses, parent council nights, or trying to squeeze in date nights with the beau.
So hey, former life – I’m sorry that I didn’t realize how fast those days would go by. I’m sorry I seemed to take them for granted. I didn’t realize just how much I’d miss the time spent with that group of girls I called friends. I didn’t realize just how much I’d miss that 3rd floor apartment, dancing to Alanis Morissette in the middle of the club, singing karaoke after a few too many glasses of wine.
But while I’m apologizing, let me thank you too. Thank you for the lessons you taught me along the way. Thank you for bringing me to this point in my life where I’m so grateful for the life I live.
And to my beautiful friends, while our time together isn’t weekly, and the catching up is via text and not in-person as much as I’d like, please know how much I adore you, admire you, and love you. I am a better woman because of you. Because of your friendship. Thank you.