I lay awake at six in the morning, dawn coming through cracks in the curtains. It had been a night of seemingly endless Braxton Hicks contractions and uncomfortable shifting. And I lay there thinking.
My second (and last) baby shower was going to be today. I'd been looking forward to it for awhile and it felt strange, because I knew that baby won't be long now. But I wasn't thinking about baby, but thinking about the faces I'd see there.
Women who are funny, charismatic, colorful, insightful, kind and smart. Women who had become near and dear to me, women who had seen me at my best and worst, at my height of drama, women who'd laughed with me, cried with me, had a glass of wine with me. Women I'd talked for hours with about books and movies and relationships and jobs and and feelings and food and crafts and all sorts of oddities. And these women were coming today to see me, to be there for me in this odd, unexpected moment of my life. A baby shower, finally, at the age of 37.
And I felt very reflective in that dawnlight, thinking of the time that has passed, the experiences passed, my experiences, their experiences, our different paths, and the fact that we were still friends. I thought of the things I know now that perhaps I did not know then, the things I've learned together with my friends....
That life always has another turning waiting around the corner.
That when one door closes another door opens.
But sometimes the opening and closing of doors, like the losing and gaining of dreams is bittersweet.
That it is okay to change.
But usually, we stay the same, some core part.
And to find friends who know that core, and love you still, is such a precious gift.
It was a lovely quiet moment.
And it turned out to be a lovely, full day. Thanks friends!