This isn't a year for Christmas parties in the A+A household. What with the juggling of the wee one's sleep schedule with our own finals and work activities we're just plain tired. Seattle is dark by 4pm, earlier if it's raining, and the outside feels reflective of my insides just now: wet and worn around the edges, waiting for newness but not expecting it any time really soon.
So I was somewhat surprised at myself last night when after putting the baby to bed I ended up crowded into the bathroom, sharing the mirror with my heart-friend Carly as we dolled up to go out. Andrew smiled when he arrived home to find me in a party dress with sparkles in my earlobes and wedge heels on my feet. "Go" he said, collapsing on the bed exhausted from his twelve hour shift, "you deserve it."
It's not the same as it was years ago, when I would pick Carly up from her studio on the hill and we'd drive off for adventures with the people we made music and life with. Of that crew I'm the only one with a babe just yet, but we're all a bit older now. The parties start earlier, at 8 instead of 11, and the settings are nicer. We've ditched group-sized rentals and made homes, bought them some of us, and several of us have paired off and married each other or found the one and brought him home, as I did. But as I stepped out on Jay's deck last night with some of the sweet ones who were among the first people in my life that I chose and who also chose me I felt some sort of emotion that was deep, strong, and hard to identify. Maybe because almost a decade ago when the ties that bound us together were mostly wisps of dreaming and drama and attraction I hardly dared to hope that years later we would be clinking our glasses together this time because of friendship and abiding love.
Come back soon, Harles. ♥