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.