What happens in NY, stays in NY. Obviously.

There is something very soothing about going home; about being with old friends who have known you through different stages of your life; about reconnecting the person you were with the person you are. This is what I did over the weekend and it felt so absolutely fabulous that I had to capture it in a picture. I had to reconnect the person that I was with the person I am and somehow make them see eye to eye.

In the hum drum that has become daily life I am sure of many things. I am sure that I will wake up in a cold sweat at 3 in the morning thinking about the 504 I need to write or whether I should make chicken or fish or if my child sleeping in the next room is going to make it school today. I used to sleep really well, like a rock really. I could sleep through a nuclear war my mom said at one point but I think she’s wrong since I saw The Day After and I would probably just be vaporized, not really sleeping. But now, I am assured that my ass will wake itself up at right around 2:30 or 3 and talk to my mind about all the things that are out of my control at 3 in the morning. My friends I saw this weekend all knew the me that could fall asleep dangling off the couch at someone’s house and remain sleeping till the sun came up. I’d like that girl back please. So would the grocery bags under my eyes.

I am sure that in the morning I will drag myself out of bed, go over to the kitchen and open the safe that holds all of the medications and knives that are hidden from my once suicidal daughter. I will open that safe and open pill bottles and lay out the goods like at a party. But I’m not anywhere near a party I assure you. I feel like nurse Ratchet in One Flew Over the Cookoo’s Nest and sometimes I have to stop myself from saying “Medication Time” in that sing songy weird, creepy voice. There was a time that I didn’t have to worry about medication and these friends know that version of me. Now I have an entire pharmacy at my disposal and all the responsibility of insuring it gets in the right mouths in the morning.

I am sure that throughout my day I’ll get at least 500 texts from either one of my children asking me asinine questions such as what’s for dinner, do they have plans (like I fucking know?), where are there sparkly shoes, you know the ones that they wore to so and so’s party, can I pick them up instead of taking the bus, can I pick them up early because they don’t feel good, or any number of ridiculous things that are so important that they have to text me from school while I’m at work. Because clearly their need to know the answers to this life altering questions is so significant that I must stop everything to answer them. And if I don’t I get the “?” 4,000 times until I answer. God forbid I am in the middle of treating a student or shopping for shoes. My friends at home know the me that could turn everything off and just be present. I miss that fucker.

I am sure that when I get home I will promptly get back into the car and take the said children wherever they need to go on any given day at any given time and that none of it will work out to my advantage. Because obviously the younger can’t have to go anywhere that is in close proximity to where the older one has to go, that would be silly. So I am sure that I will sit in a shit ton of traffic looking over at mothers and fathers with the same bleary eyed, over-cooked look on their faces and want to fist bump them and buy them a shot of tequila. My friends know the me that would just drink the tequila without the bleary eyed over-cooked look on my face. Cheers.

I am sure that at some point during the evening, my younger daughter will tell me she had a bad day and I’ll lie with her and rub her hair and try and reassure her that bad days happen. I am sure that I don’t believe myself as I hear the words coming out of my mouth but I truly don’t know what else to say or do. I am sure that I will flashback to her sitting at the top of the stairs with a knife and a look of such dark despair on her face and I will shudder and hold her close to me while she cries silently. I am sure that nothing even remotely so heavy was going on when my friends knew me even though we thought that not having chocolate frosting to dip our pretzel sticks into was the end of the world.

And what all comes out of this is that it is so incredible to go back and be with people who have known you from the days your cares were few and your bad decisions many. We laughed at old times, said hugely inappropriate things, and were there for each other in ways that only people who have been together for so many parts of life can be. The picture I took captured the perm grin I wore on my face from being around these friends. And thankfully, what happens in NY, stays in NY.


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