I had dinner tonight with an old friend. We've known each other long enough for him to still call me "Chrissy," and he's witnessed my entire career and adulthood. He's the kind of friend that when you hug hello and say, "it's so great to see you," all the memories of why you have remained friends for so long come flooding back, and you realize you truly mean it when "it's so great..." comes rushing out of your mouth.
We covered a lot of ground tonight, as we don't get the chance to catch up often. While our personal lives have always been very different on the surface - me, long married with two kids; he, long time bachelor with no kids - we always had touch points. Initially, we were in the same company. Then the same industry. We even lived a block apart on the same street for several years.
And as the years have passed, we have found new interests and passions, and kept each other informed all the way along. He has reinvented himself and become a best selling author. Of course I find this infinitely fascinating because as a hack who cranks out a post a day as part of a self-imposed Experiment, to hear from someone who is actually accomplished and talented about how he approaches his work is really interesting to me. And he's always shown me incredible support since my early days as an naive kid with big ideas about how companies should work through today where he's still encouraging me on "what might come next."
I loved this dinner, because the evening was filled with everything that is important to me. We laughed about disastrous dating experiences. I learned from what he shared about his work process. I whipped out a pen and started writing on our paper tablecloth, brainstorming some ideas for how to end this Experiment. I even ate. But I just had to think really hard about what I ate, because that is SO not the important part for me. This is in sharp contrast to my girlfriend who writes a great food blog, capturing in luscious detail every delectable bite of her meals. For me…I had to seriously think hard to remember I had the chicken, and it was good, and there was a rice waffle on the side. I took a bite just to be adventurous, but it was gross.
And ironically, all of this took place at Sonsie, which is where my writing took off. That is the restaurant I was the night I sat with another writer, who suggested I begin capturing my thoughts in a journal. (And that I promptly dismissed as a stupid waste of time.) And nearly a year later, here I am. There is something oddly special about the uncertainly of knowing what's in front of me, the crazy, constantly changing year I have just been through and all of that being complemented by the comfort of having a very old friend who's seen me through it all and is still cheering me on.
As we said goodbye, I summed up by confirming what I good place I was in. Of course everything is not perfect; mostly because life is imperfect, and so am I. However, my daughters and happy and thriving and they remain my biggest priority. I love my job and I am still committed to my crazy little company. I am managing to crank this thing out every night, and I'm hitting the gym 3-4 days a week now. And most importantly, I am surrounded by friends and family who are just fundamentally great people. I am an incredibly fortunate girl. Who cares if I'm missing a few parts? If what's missing is meant to be, it will be. If what's broken is meant to be fixed, it will be repaired. All in good time.
In the meantime, I'm grateful for all the good in my life. There's a lot of it. And having good friends who make you think, laugh and feel truly cared about sure is high on the list.
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