When I went to college I was very lucky to fall in with a group of people who quickly became the closest friends I've ever had. We had a lot of fun together--we drank too much, danced too much, and talked too much, and studied not nearly as much as we should have. For the most part, we stayed friends after college, but there were some difficulties: one friend battled alcoholism, another eloped with a much older man none of us really like, and several came out of the closet in tortuous, awful ways. And then there's Elizabeth.
I was wary of Elizabeth for awhile because she's the sort of woman who is so tall, blonde, and beautiful that you felt even shorter, mousier, and unattractive just being in the same room with her. It seemed like she had the perfect family, the perfect life. She had a serious boyfriend all through college and talked about marriage and kids, which were terrifying to me at the time. She did not expect to have a career, really--maybe she would teach, but mostly she would be a wife and a mom.
Then things took an unexpected turn. She and her boyfriend broke up. And then got back together. And then broke up. As this dragged on, she worked as an elementary school teacher and eventually decided to go to graduate school, and she became an intellectual badass. She was still single and still wanted to be married with babies, but her graduate program fell all over themselves giving her awards and making her feel appreciated, and she found some happiness in that. When she was done, she got a job that she really wanted, and that she really likes. At the moment, the job calls for her to be in Dhaka, Bangladesh, where there’s a scary and violent general strike going on. I got an email from her this morning saying that she and learning a lot and happy to be there. And that she was safe. Thank God.
So, this particular Valentine is for you Elizabeth: I'm lucky to know you. Come home soon.
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