On Sunday I took a train to visit my high school friend Johanna, toting a considerable amount of guilt that we have lived within 40-minutes of each other for two years and not come face to face. We'd talked about the trip for a while, but it was spurred by the fact that Johanna is 9-weeks pregnant, and just now feeling well enough (barely) to have company. I took the opportunity and (being by no means exploitative) couldn't squash a measure of excitement at having a pregnant friend to potentially take pictures of.
Johanna is meticulous and soft-spoken and endlessly kind, and we have almost nothing in common. Even as I caught up with her and her husband Nathan (of almost 5 years! Jesus Christ, where does the time go, and oops, forgive my language, Johanna...), I really felt it; we have both changed so much. Our priorities, our lifestyles, our mannerisms. And all the differences that existed when we were friends came to memory because of their pronounced continuum; in each other's presense, we remembered all the things we forgot.
And yet even knowing how far away, despite the geography, our lives and inherant selves have taken us, you can't help but wish happiness for the other, and take comfort in watching good things come to good people. It's just as simple as that.
I saw the most amazing broken umbrella for my collection yesterday, driving out in Taunton from a shoot.
And I finally got a new bike, even though I'm still somewhat in denial about my last one being stolen. I looked for it for weeks, convinced that I'd just forgotten where I'd left it, despite how uncharacteristic that would have been of me. I brought the Schwinn home on the T tonight, which was exhausting. Just when I was worrying about how I was going to make my way off the train at Downtown Crossing through the thick crowds, a friend happened to get on at the stop before and helped clear me a path. I thought: my angel!
...And I say I'm not religious.