I’ve made a priority to try to see friends in the last few weeks: a photographer who I used to climb with a lot, another woman who has become a mountain guide (and is now pregnant), my beautiful Argentinian friend who is a walking smile, my roommate (who is getting used to the idea of having a roommate I think! so sometimes we organize dinner together which is added bonus fun), my ex-husband (who has really become a valued friend) and Tuesday, some friends played with their “group”, a bunch of climbing songs about people and places we all know. There were a ton of people there and I danced at the end! I never dance (way too shy) but the wife of one of the players is from Colombia and has music in her fantastic, sexy shoes, and she started so I started. It was really fun.
All this means that I think about my father and his illness, but in a context that is joyful and shared. I tell them about him (my photographer friend has met my dad, and so has my ex-husband). I joke about how weepy I get, which helps me with perspective when the weepy moments come.
I feel full. I feel okay.
I’ve been staying up too late, though, seeing all these people, so yesterday I curled up on the couch with Foro, took a nap and had a weepy moment.
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