And we're off to Florida. For the record: Sandy has decided that she is Thelma, which makes me Louise. We have not robbed any banks yet, and we have not murdered anyone. So we have no need yet to drive our car off a cliff. If you get none of those references. . .you need to rent the movie!
I feel I need to make a major shout out to girlfriends everywhere. Because we SOOOOOO get it on so many levels. And when we get it, we share it. And we discover that we have all had the same life, albeit in many different configurations.
Old loves. . . . fraught with pathos and heartache and euphoria. Without going into too much detail, I will admit to having "old love" issues myself in the past month. The beauty of this age is that looking back over the landscape of our lives, we have perspective that we did not have before. LIke. . . . what is the meaning of the choices I made earlier in my life. . . as in choices in men. Don't get me started. . . no, please. . . don't get me started. But it is possible to go back over the years and know for sure which guys you should have shown the door, and which guys got away. That's all I"m going to say about that. But memories of lost loves can be powerful, and the desire to reconnect can be overwhelming.
But I'm talking about my friend Thelma today. Because the route we took to Florida by car just "happened" to put us close to the location of her lost love. I don't even say "One of her lost loves." For Thelma. . .this was the big one. At first it was just "we'll drive past this city where he lives now." But, let us review, I am a girlfriend, and I own an IPhone. So as we approached the appropriate exit on the highway we were debating if she should at least call him to say hi. Her lost love is now in his 80's. A quick hello would be fine. But, to recap. . . .I have an IPhone. So I have the phone number for her in about 8 seconds. Plus the address. Plus a map pinpointing the address. Now something that was abstract has become concrete. And we're girlfriends. Not so long ago, I had a girlfriend do this same thing for me. "Thelma. . . we HAVE to drive by his house. You have to know where he lives!" Thelma did not take much convincing, even though she did admit to butterflies. With me in the navigator's seat and my hand firmly on the phone with the precious directions, we slowly made our way to the part of town, the feeder street, and finally to the very street where her lost love now resided. We turned onto the street and THERE was the house. Thelma is about 2 skipped beats away from cardiac arrest. I am the best girlfriend. I am snapping pictures like a crazy person with my IPhone camera. We are giggling, and kvetching and internally hemorrhaging. . . this is what girlfriends do. We do not see him. We wish we had. But I have the pictures. And we leave the town to continue our trip.
Our conversation turns to sharing stories of the "one that got away." I'm all in on this conversation. I let one get away too. We are Thelma and Louise. We had different lives completely. But we both know all about this lost love thing. And it's good to share. Because that's what girlfriends do.
LOVE!
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