We meet every two weeks at a hodgepodge of cafes around the city.
I of course order an Americano. She orders tea and she orders nothing.
That's because, she's been up since the crack of dawn, tackling a bazillion miles on her bike, getting her yayas out and her endorphin rush on. While she's been doing Purre Barre classes racking up more hours than I can conceive of...squeezing her ass and her abs and getting strong physically and mentally.
We exchange compliments like, I love your bag...you got the new Apple watch?!!...That dress looks fabulous...and then, hugs...before we get down to business.
The truth is...we're an odd group. From the outside, we're in completely different life stations. I'm married with three relatively little kids. She's divorced with one soon-to-be graduating teenager. And she's married with adorable furry four-legged creatures and looking to grow her family in the future.
They have massive jobs and kick-ass resumes. She runs an incredible organization and makes donor calls and solicits board members. She flys out to very cool destinations and leads a team of people who do good work.
And I well, you know what I do...so among them, I stand in awe of the talent and the humility. I think that's why it works.
All three of us are so very different and yet, we have a passion and an energy that surges through our veins and when the time comes, we tell the other exactly what we think and question why following your dreams is such a crap shoot.
She wants me to write her profile for Match.com...I just laugh and think, what in the Hell do I know about dating? I think marriage is a gauntlet. But of course, I start to put the words together in my head and write the most eloquent piece about a friend that I feel like is worth her weight in gold and that the majority of men are completely undeserving of.
She wants me to write about the Imposter Syndrome because I constantly tell her that I feel like a fraud and want to exude the kind of confidence that she does in client meetings.
She thinks that the shit my kids say is for the record books. I tell her that I wish I was making it up, but for better or for worse, this is my crazy, hot mess of a life.
When it comes down to it, I'm grateful to have a village of women in my life that I turn to for a myriad of hopes, dreams, support and needs. These two girls just happen to really get me. They know when to gently call bull shit. They ask really good, open-ended questions when I'm trying to probe or dig into what the crux of the issue is. And they make no bones about being flawed, imperfect, sometimes withering on the vine.
And yet, dutifully, even when we can't find a fucking parking space to save our lives....we show up, we smile, sometimes cry and always encourage the other that it's worth it.
I'm just so thankful to have someone(s) who gets me.