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  • Twenty five years separate us yet we meet as two old souls with timeless familiarity. Sometimes every Sunday for uber-creative foodie fests, then sometimes not for months. Sometimes quick exchanges on Facebook or some silly Twitter banter are all we have time for; she a young bride and an ambitious graduate student, me a seasoned wife/mom/fast track career burnout. Together, the statistic geeks, the ghost hunters, the cynical outcasts, we bitch about the stupidity of video games and how we "lose our shit" when our men can't seem to do anything but play them. We care for our aging parents and weep over their changing states that we can do nothing about. We dance with dizzy abandon in the living room like GaGa or Shakira or Jodette the local belly dance instructor just because we can. She cared for me like an angel during chemo, bringing crayons and color books when I told her my world was too black. We respect each other's mystery and I forgive her for not falling in love with my son so I could call her daughter; she calls me Mom anyway. Some people are just magical. They shimmer and vibrate and reveal wisdom that surely has been accumulated from centuries of past lives lived. Karma incarnate, beauty, brains, moxy, our lives have crossed before, they cross now, they will cross again.
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