We went to a benefit at the Kentler International Drawing Space, of which Meridith is a board member, and then out to dinner at a fine tiny restaurant whose name I cannot remember. I had ragu of lamb over pappardelle with a fabulous glob of lemon ricotta on top, and we shared a kickass bottle of wine. And talked and talked and talked -- she's just back from a three-week fellowship in Rome and glowing with it.
But here's my point: I've known Meridith for, I figured out on my rainy walk home from the train, 24 years this summer. 24 years. My friend Nina, who lives in Hawaii and whom I'm going to see for a few hours on Sunday before she heads up to Boston to see her folks, 31 years. Leslie in Vermont, my sister-in-arms, 31 years come October. Eileen in Colorado, to whom I owe a phone call like nobody's business, 28 years this September. Jane in Brooklyn, 24 years. Dena and Patricia downtown, 23 years. And Sandy, also downtown (hey, call me!), 20.
I totted up all the numbers as I walked home and it made me feel really good. This isn't one of my beloved traits, or anything that I've had any real control over. It's just a blessing from out of the blue: These friends, who have been with me for such a long time. Talking to Meridith over dinner tonight, realizing that no matter how long we go without seeing each other -- and lately it's seemed like I've been dating my girlfriends, we have to take such care allocating time for each other -- we're always still connected by some fine and unbreakable line. And then coming home to my family here, where the ties are newer but still full of promise -- the feeling of being blessed doesn't even begin to cover it. It's like I hit some cosmic lottery.
There are pictures -- good lord, there are SO many pictures. But they're upstairs in boxes and it's late. So let's just say I feel roughly like... this.