Hey Nic, put down your iphone. No? Ok.

The scenario: Listening to The Wedding Singer's signature ballad in Nic's zen apartment located in beautiful NYC, digesting Dominos, hours away from the Holy Land and all that will bring about with it, and reveling in the fact that this afternoon I was mere feet away from Bradley Whitford, West Wing star. Holy shit?

I'll keep this brief because more important things like Edward Scissorhands on DVR is calling my name...but I find myself ridiculously and incredibly grateful for people who have known you since awkward fashion malfunctions, drooling smoothie before the morning even really begins, and thinking that massaging one's stomach after a big meal helps with digestion. Relationships have changed and morphed over the last 3ish years, and it's hard for me to remember what it felt like to spend all my nights with people who I now speak to every few weeks or so. I know that it was glorious and comfortable and that it paved the way for moments like this weekend, when all of the stupid/raw/Abigail Vanzantenfeudenheiserkennolyn characteristics were let loose, and I didn't make one attempt to cover them up. I think it was Oscar Wilde who said that it with old friends that one can afford to be stupid with. Get your dangling prepositions right, Oscar. I jest.

No but really, moving forward with my life with a few life-long friends in my pocket and a speed dial phone call away when an African-American Albino walks by, or when I become a nervous pooper and need a familiar voice to walk me through it in the stalls is a gift in and of itself. Good people, good people. There are few things more precious than those who you can pick it right back up with after months of little contact, and it's not because we haven't moved on, and it's not because we haven't changed, but it's because enough time was spent to get to know those unchangeable, essential parts of each other that no new clique or location or job can change. I'm becoming a mushy Maggie at a ridiculously fast rate right now, but I care not. If I ever become famous for my reflexes or impressions of flight attendants, (because that's all I know how to do. Ever.) I know that I will become instantly grounded when trips like this happen, and souls that have been there since forever show up. I'm so thankful that college hasn't changed these encounters that I cherish so dearly, and I'm so thankful for the confidence that they instill, so that taking big leaps become more than just a little possible, because of that assurance of a nervous pooper rescue. I love you all.

Lindsey