Absorption

I sat outside with a friend last night, drinking a gin and tonic, she a glass of white wine, celebrating her 28th birthday. It was a quiet, no-frills night, as far as birthday nights go. I didn’t sing her happy birthday, and the waitress didn’t even card us, which would have been the “it’s her birthday” moment. In fact, at one point, we got asked by a group of girls if we wouldn’t mind moving so they could use our table because it was their friend’s birthday and they needed more chairs. We politely gathered our stuff and moved. I did have half a mind to go back over to the table and say, hey, just heads up, it’s MY friend’s birthday too.

Despite it’s low-keyness, or maybe because of its low-keyness, the night was good. Good because it was the perfect, no-mosquito, early Minnesota summer night and good because being in each other’s presence is just comfortable and peaceful and knowing. She knows that I know certain things, and I know that she knows certain things—like the meaning of anxiety, singleness, and writer’s block.

I got to thinking on my way home last night how each year our hearts absorb more. They take in experiences and relationships, both good and painful. Sometimes they’re strengthened and fortified. Other times they’re cut and bruised and take time to heal and scar over. But no matter what, stuff (at times called s***) didn’t just come and go. It was absorbed and became part of us, changing us, making us what we are. And true friends are those who absorb with you. They’re there pre- and post-absorption with the same love, just different hearts right along with you.

So, dear friend, happy birthday. Thanks for knowing, and for absorbing with me. I love you!