I sat with a friend the other evening and we caught up over iced tea-

mine, green & minty. Always.

And hers, coconut. Her go-to, she said.

We talked about relationships, the romantic and the girl kind.

We talked about struggles with weight and heartache and expectation (ours & others, often blurred).

We talked about ourselves. She about me. Me about her. Me about me. And her about her.

And what I mean by that, is we had a miraculous discussion about knowing ourselves.

And accepting ourselves. And being kind to ourselves. True love, if you will.

I told her I’d been thinking for weeks about adding something to my plate and then, I just did it. I plopped it on cafeteria style.

She said, well that’s because you do impulsive things.

I cringed but she smiled.

I said that I felt like I was always swaying. One extreme and then another.

I told her balance was hard.

She said, that’s just you though. That’s part of you.

And right then and there, this very peaceful, warm feeling took over my whole body. Because she was right.

I do that. I’ve always done that.

I’m not a risk taker per say. In fact, I’m quite cautious. I don’t like roller coasters. I’m much more of a merry go round type of girl-

but I’m adventurous and impulsive in the very same breath.

I don’t care for limbo. I don’t like being stuck. Stuck makes me want to run. And sometimes I run right into oncoming traffic.

But that’s just me. That’s what I do.

Minty, green tea. And merry go rounds. And bruises from oncoming traffic.

As we sat there with the sun setting and our ice cubes melting, she looked at me with patience and grace and admiration for what she knows I’ve been through.

It was the way I want to look at myself.

The way we should all look at ourselves.

And each other for that matter…

patience and grace and admiration for what we’ve been through. It could be miraculous.