I could not survive in this world without my girlfriends. I have always been blessed with girls and then, women, in my life that make it shine. But I have never been so acutely aware of this fact until I began living my life in two places. I have sisters in two countries and friends that remain an integral part of my life no matter where I happen to be. To sit with a friend, to catch up on what is real and what is worth dumping, what makes us happy and what is simply soulless drabble we should be letting go of; what to focus on and what to renounce, denounce, announce is over and not worth fighting for is how I survive in all my chaos. I rely on these friendships immensely and without shame.
Last week I traveled back to London, and then to Venice for a writing gig. I stayed with a friend who opened the door to my exhausted arrival and put me straight to bed with a bottle of water and a candle making the room smell sweet. What else does a true friend do than give you just what you really need?? We didn’t even gossip as she knew my mind would start spinning if I started to engage. I awoke to the hairdresser waiting to do my hair and lovely food to eat. Seriously?? From the cradle of my family I arrived to the bosom of female friendship, pun intended, which is always the next best thing.
The week was frenetic celebrating my gorgeous niece’s 21st. Black tie, marquee, the works. I danced the night away with boys half my age and had a crazy freedom on the dance floor that would have been wildly embarrassing to my children. But hey…who the hell was looking???? A bunch of 21 year old drunk boys from Exeter! It was fun not caring and having young men try and dance with me. My brother-in-law’s analysis was the most accurate; we ‘older folk’ couldn’t figure out what role we were playing at the party; we were too young to be their parents and too old to join in as equals. It was a funny equation which went from rap dances to Neil Diamond.
Then Venice. It was glamourous, elegant, inspiring and delicious. No wonder Lord Byron wrote many a poem there. He lived in a house that we were reviewing for LuxuryExplorer.com. This job carries with it a ridiculous privilege of staying in some of the world’s most sought after locations. I made it a point not to call home too often and get caught up in the rumble of the boy’s lives. I move mountains to go away for a week – 9 days actually if you ask me and two weeks if you ask Husband) – so there is truly no point in trying to micro-manage the bible of info I left from a gondola on the Grand Canal.
Back in London I reconnected with a few friends and felt instantly at home. I was worried, in fact, that I was going to visit my actual home and feel bereft for having left it, strange that another’s energy is filling it. But no, I didn’t experience any of that. I purposely didn’t cross the threshold of the front door when I stopped by to get my coat from storage, and only quickly eyed up the kitchen from the outside window. I just didn’t ‘go there’ in my mind. We need the rental money and I chose to thank my house for that rather than to dramatize my longing to be there. And that is where friends come in to play; the compassion and comfort of female bonding coupled with the ability to talk an issue through till I’ve exhausted it, makes Life’s curvy path endurable and promising.
I head back to LA feeling grounded and content that my life in London is not in jeopardy and my girls are still my girls. In fact, it’s all pretty cool.
Summer dates please.