girls will be girls

I just wrote a little note and stuck it my purse. It's not addressed to anyone in particular and I'm not sure who will inherit it just yet but I'll know her when I see her. I imagine one day soon I'll dash into a coffee shop pushing my stroller, trying to keep Caleb from grabbing the half-eaten Lara Bar off of someone's plate as they lose themselves in their new Kindle Fire. While I am waiting for the disenchanted high school student to foam my chai tea, I'll relish in a little people-watching. I can picture the students elbows-deep in term papers and text books. The senior couple sipping black coffee. The hipster guy in skinny jeans. And in the corner there's one table that will catch my eye longer the others. I imagine (I have a vivid imagination.) that I'll spy a table of young women in their early twenties giggling with each other over steaming lattes and iced coffees grasped delicately by freshly manicured nails. I can see the sparkle from a new engagement ring that dons the finger of one - the twinkle in her eyes tells me the proposal was romantic, the promises extraordinary, the dreams limitless. I see the joy of the other as she takes pleasure in the humor and love of good friends, enjoying every moment of the time together before she steals back to get dressed for her evening shift at the pub. I witness the other friend in her cute boots and beanie. The ease in her laugh tells me she's a gentle soul, but as she picks at the peeling edge of the faux wood table, I can tell she's holding just a little something back. I want to wait and she if she'll divulge her secret worry to her besties, but the call from behind the counter beckons me back to reality - "Cris. Chai latte." I'll grab my treat, pierce the straw through Caleb's chocolate milk, and head for the door, but as I make my way toward the exit, I'm going to take out that note from my purse and slip it onto their table, soliciting wide-eyed stares that ask, "Oh, snap! Is this housewife about to lose it on us?" But I won't.

Dear Girls, 

Pardon the intrusion. For fear of being a dork and a nuisance, I was hesitant to lay this note on your table but I can't help myself. I noticed your way with one another and it reminded me of some people I know. Not long ago, my girlfriends and I frequented our own booth in a similar coffee shop dressed in youthful glows and messy buns and college sweat-shirts. Like you, we took solace in our collective company and also like you, our futures were bright and our ambitions were tall. We each believed it was our destiny to change the world. And in our own right, we have. 

You will discover in due time (as we all do) that life will take you down some interesting roads. Wedding bells will chime. First apartments will be decorated. Careers will blossom. Babies will be born. Homes will be built. Celebrations will be shared. And if you're lucky, you'll share it all together. And if you're luckier still, and if you're as smart as you now believe you are, you'll be there for each other when one of you gets passed over for that first promotion. When you're holding the hand of a baby who refuses to sleep and it's too late at night to call mom, but never too late to call your girlfriend because you know she's awake doing the same thing. When the boss is too demanding. When you wonder why you ever tried. When you lose sight of yourself. When you realize marriage is harder than magazines make it look. When you see the first of the gray hairs. When you notice the lump. When your dad gets sick. When your youngest tries your patience. When you feel like a failure. When you wish you could go back and do it all over again.

You'll adore your babies, and if you're lucky, you'll fall in-love, but the comfort that comes from a friend whose known you since you stopped wearing two bras on dates, and who remembers your kids' birthdays is better than almost anything else the world offers. 

Enjoy each other. You got a good thing goin'.