Tuesday, February 08, 2005

good times

sometimes you have to go back to your roots. and on saturday, that is what i did. it was a beautiful day in the neighborhood but i was feeling particularly fond of my pajamas and my couch. that is, until i got a call from Gloria telling me my friend Liz wanted to see me that day. No, Gloria is not Liz's assistant (though I'd love for one of my friends to have an assistant...). Rather, Liz, in characteristic Liz fashion, lost her wallet and cellphone upon arriving in Astoria. So she has been living in Astoria for the past week, unable to contact anyone except through email. Oh Liz. So I hop on my roommate's computer and email Liz. She wants to lure me out of the house with the offer of a $3 day complete with a good old fashioned wander about the neighborhood. I bit. I haven't seen her in forever. and the best thing about liz is that we are always on the same page. we always get each other - no matter what crazy different adventures we've gone through on our own, we always come back to us. Seeing her after years apart still feels like I talked to her yesterday, in the parking lot outside of school right before the bell rang and they locked us out. You see, we went to high school together and had some pretty formative adventures in those days: she was the first person I met when I started the all girls private high school(hand outstretched, big blue eyes and a formal introduction including her FULL name: Elizabeth Mary Angela Dembrowsky); she helped me talk the school into hiring a director so that we, like the boys school, could put up plays in our gymnasium (oddly we ended up with Scary Lee - a woman whose fashion was stuck in the 80s and whose directing style belonged in the jungle); and she snuck out of school and prepared the getaway car when, in the 11th grade, our friend Bonnie had a baby (who she named Amy - ah, but that is guilt for another story...). Where am I? Oh yes, so here we are, now in our late 20s, living once again in the same geographical area. So we meet by the Broadway stop on the N/W line in Astoria and set to walking. We decide we're getting better looking as we age though not more frugal, as we both assess our credit card balances to see if we can get lunch. We can. So we sit at a cute little cafe and catch up. We discuss boys mostly - they tend to float to the surface earlier in the conversation than say, our own disappointment at a serious lack of career (though eventually it comes up). She suggests we return to her new apartment where she wants to show me the new cult hit, Napoleon Dynamite. I agree. But when we get to her house, it seems her roommate has taken it away for the weekend (it does belong to her after all). So we sit and we chat. I tell her about my sexual revolution and how it feels to embark on the first major relationship after such a strange sexual trip. We talk about the books we want to write, the places we want to visit, the jobs we wish we didn't have to have. And its all good. Makes me feel very at home. and I hope it does for her as well. I am, after all, already at home in New York City. She is just moving here. And I realize that if I am okay here that she will be okay here. Because that's how it all works. We've always been on the same page, we understand each other and the choices we've made. And I think that New York is the right choice for her as it is the right choice for me. And it makes me happy. Because I know that now I am the one with the hand outstretched and the big blue eyes, welcoming her to her new adventure.
"Hi. My name is Amy Jeanne Pacheco. Welcome to New York City."


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