Orange Juice, Coffee Mugs, and a "Toast 2 Life"

BTW...she took this pic of herself...

After she left, I realized I had given her too much orange juice. I should have grabbed a coffee cup, rinsed it out, and half-filled it. The customary red, plastic SOLO I reserved for company is not her style. As I poured the rest of the juice she left in the cup down the drain, I smiled. She's priceless.

The best friendships are those that can reach the point of extinction and, somehow, teeter along the edge of reason, relevance, trust, and time with grace and resilience. We've been there; and we're back now. This new phase in our lives finds us young and filled with ambitions and dreams still throbbing in our veins. She paints. I write. We both read and blog. Her hair is natural now; mine too, but relaxed (inside joke :-D). I still trust her with the most intimate details of my brain, no matter how mean, embarrassing, or strange. She listens and makes faces that I understand. She's my oldest friend.

For a while we disconnected. I disconnected with most of the world, actually. Depression is a hard thing to overcome, no matter how strong and/or brave you are. Even though she knows the most intimate details of my life, I was still ashamed to be so weak and sad in her presence. So...the old "us"...the "us" who shared inside jokes, common history and friends, and many meals stood at the edge of a cliff, turned its back to the drop, and dangled one foot over the edge. Eventually, we fell...and landed in new territory. And it's great here.

I know this installment of my verbal vomit on virtual canvas is weird, and uncustomarily sappy (especially after the previous entry), but as much as I give a toast to the douchebags and such in true Kanye West swagg-tastic-ness, I had to lift a glass, a half-filled coffee mug of orange juice to be specific, to my homie.