There was a short period of time in which I thought I was ready and able to forge ahead alone. I would (and admittedly still do) pump independence into my veins by listening to Paramore's "Ain't It Fun" more times than is probably advisable. That song makes me want to buck up and be an adult, because if the real world really is about being all alone, I should pretty darn well get used to it.
Then I realized that I need people. I really really need people and I am not ashamed to admit it, Paramore.
"Don't leave me alone," I plead in a silent prayer offered up (to God, not to Paramore) atop a humble brown futon. "Please send me friends who will understand me. Please send me more good people."
Oh, I have been so blessed. Last Friday, a few lingering Barlow friends and I had a final hoorah of sorts--we explored Arlington Cemetery, peered out the tiny windows at the tippy top of the Washington Monument, and then we walked to Ollie's Trolley and finally to China Town to see a movie. But by the time the movie got out it was midnight and I (being me) was worried about taking the metro home alone at that hour.
Lucky for me, one of the guys with us, Michael, whom I had somehow neglected to notice all night, popped onto my radar when I learned that he lived where I live and would therefore be taking the same metro line to the same metro stop. My fears were assuaged in a matter of seconds and I quite literally shouted for joy. The two of us had a good little chat as the train screamed northward and then he walked me right to my front door, that darling boy.
The next day I joined a river adventure with a bunch of people from the ward. Michael was there too, and once again he indulged me in my paranoia and lashed his tube to mine as we (and by we, I mean he) navigated the rocky waters of the Potomac on our unreliable rafts of inflated plastic. By some miracle, the only scars we ended up with from that aqua battle were sunburnt backs and scraped shins--absolutely worth the trade for a new good friend and the opportunity to bask in the beauty of West Virginia whilst paddling/floating/crashing down a river.
On the drive home, Michael invited me to his farewell event, since this was to be his last weekend in DC and all. I showered and changed and packed into another car that whizzed back up the way we'd just come, to a small clearing in the middle of the forest. I shared a blanket with a lovely lady named Alyson, and Michael's astrophysicist roommate used a green laser to point out the constellations (no wonder I haven't seen Orion around for awhile--he only comes out in the winter!). Alyson and I swung swiftly from strangers to friends as we gazed up at the stars and, in sharing our hopes for and fears of the future, realized that we're pretty much in the same boat. "Sorry," I said, "but I'm going to force you to be my friend." She laughed and replied, "I'm okay with that."
On Monday we spent the day at the beach. On Tuesday we spent the afternoon watching Harry Potter 4, eating mac n cheese, and perusing Target and Trader Joe's. On Wednesday we spent a few hours at Starbucks, laughing and chatting and pretending to apply for jobs. We made a list of all the things to do in this current state of living called unemployment; we planned a trip to Vermont in the fall.
A few days ago, I didn't even know she existed.
"Don't leave me alone," I plead in a silent prayer offered up atop a humble brown futon. "Please send me friends who will understand me. Please send me more good people."
I can see the Lord's hand in my life so clearly. Making friends has never been so easy.
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