Halfway through May

Well, shoot. I can’t believe I let three weeks go by without posting a new blog. There have certainly been some major events I need to document. Let’s get to ’em starting with…

Church!

My ward got divided on April 22^nd. The transition has been a bit of a challenge. Very close friends of mine were moved into a new ward. Luckily we still meet in the same building every Sunday (their ward meets at 12, my ward meets at 1:30) and we get to see each other here and there. The part I love most about the ward division is the continued unity I’ve seen over the past three weeks. There is no hard and fast line boundary line dividing us – we meander in and out of each other’s activities, classes and meetings. It seems we’d rather attend extra hours of church to be together than let our friendships fade. Last night my ward was still playing volleyball for Family Home Evening when the other ward’s FHE had already wrapped. It was awesome to see a bunch of my friends in the other ward hop into the back of my friend’s truck to talk and watch the rest of the game. Everyone just seemed so happy. I hope they are as happy as I am despite all the recent shake-ups.

Friends!

April had a few more bombshells up its sleeve. I was greatly relieved to see that my friends Chloe and Romy barely made the ward boundary cut. The only catch was that Chloe was already in the process of moving to South P-town. Sneaky, sneaky! She only lives 15 minutes away but life just isn’t the same without seeing her every Sunday at church. (Seriously, though, I have learned to support my friends in their desires for bigger and better things. There’s no time to feel sorry for myself when I have so many people to cheer on.) On top of that I heard the great news that my friend Malcolm will be taking an internship in DC this fall semester. He’ll likely leave town the week after my friend Romy gets married and moves to San Jose. Again, I’m happy for my friends but this is a lot of transition! If all that weren’t enough I was already looking down the barrel at my friend Eva’s imminent move to DC. (She left P-town this morning.) That’s right folks, the next stop on the P-town train is Washington, D.C.! Thank goodness my friend Jane already lives there. Now I’ll have three reasons to visit.

Cleaning!

The great P-town Exodus of 2012 is well underway. My roommate, Lola, moved out on April 30^th and headed to Atlanta for a quick school break before taking a summer internship in New York City. In anticipation of my new roommate moving in I grabbed my spring cleaning goal by the horns and spent the first week of May getting rid of “half the stuff in my apartment.” (Well, it was probably only 20% but it certainly felt like 50%.) I spent 2-3 hours each night searching for and destroying clutter. I combed over every closet, drawer, shelf and cabinet I have. I took at least six full garbage bags down to the dumpster and two garbage bags full of recycling in to work (we have a recycling program at work but not at my apartment complex). I gave away a ton of clothes to my friends and I took and entire carload of stuff to Deseret Industries. When my floors were finally clear of all of the piles of discarded items I ran around in circles just for the fun of it. As a special reward to myself I got my car detailed and felt more spic and span than ever.

Cycling!

The strangest thing that happened during my cleaning craze was my sudden urge to pull my bike out for a quick spin. (The first one of the year!) Let’s remember that when I bought my bicycle last July I was completely terrified to ride it. I spent the remainder of the summer trying to convince myself I could ride it without crashing needlessly. I had a goal of riding it once a week and somehow at the end of the summer that goal got away from me. Before I knew it the temperatures dropped and I was concerned my hands would be too cold to properly operate the brakes. (I didn’t want to spend additional money on winter riding gear since the whole bike experience had been so touch-and-go from the beginning.) As winter passed and my bike stayed in storage I worried about forgetting all of the technique I had picked up during last year's practice rides. How would I ever have the guts to get on the bike after an eight month hiatus? Lo and behold I pulled the bike out of my storage shed, got set, got ready, and went! Sure, I only went in a circle through the parking lot, onto the road, and back to my storage unit but STILL – it was easy and it was fun. The revelation that riding a bike really is “like riding a bike” has echoed in my head during my dread-free rides since then.

In summary…

My ward changed, a lot of my friends are moving, I got rid of my stuff like I said I would, I have a new roommate, and I’m back on my bike. (I’m even planning to ride my bike to work this week.) Although change can be traumatizing I hope to embrace every last transition gracefully. May is already halfway over and there’s no telling what surprises are still in store. I just hope they’re good ones!

Oh, hey, what's that I hear? Scarlett and Parley are engaged? Sounds like this is going to be a great summer!

Summer of Solidarity

A week and a half ago my ward volleyball team had its first match. I was nervous stepping onto the sand volleyball court because the other team had seven players and we only had four. We won our first match and changed sides to play the second. I tend to talk a lot when I’m playing sports and for some reason I blurted out the words, “Solidarity, people. Solidarity.” We went on to win the set but something kept bugging me. I didn’t know exactly what the word solidarity meant. I know I use words incorrectly quite often so I looked up the definition of solidarity the next day. Dictionary.com’s definition reads, “Union or fellowship arising from common responsibilities and interests...” I was relieved to find I had used the word correctly even if it was just an accident. The words “Summer of Solidarity” had already been echoing in my head and I was dying to open a new Word document and start writing this blog but the week was quickly swept away in a social tidal wave. I have since gone on vacation, gotten some perspective, reunited with my friends, and caught up on the latest Facebook action. I am hereby ready to blog to my heart’s content.

366 days ago I created this blog. I began a tradition of creating themes for each season by accident. I was feeling pretty cynical last summer so I deemed it “The Summer of No Expectations.” I was reaching for a carefree attitude in which I would simply socialize and have fun without expecting anything tangible to come out of it (like a relationship). While I gave it my best effort there was still something lacking. I pretended not to care about my lack of a significant other but it was all a façade. I spent a lot of time fooling myself and skipping along the surface of relationships without allowing myself to plummet to dark, unknown depths. In short, I was trying to be someone I wasn’t. It is hard for me to maintain friendships on a surface level and I only do so in the most fleeting of circumstances. Otherwise I feel like I’m missing out on getting to know someone great.

This rule holds true for every general area of my life except for the workplace. I always feel like I have to filter how much personal information I exchange at work. I find myself thinking, “Is this appropriate to share?” I think it’s part of being a young professional and finding my footing in an always-changing landscape. When Adobe announced its intention to acquire Omniture in September 2009 I was scared out of my mind. I thought for sure I was going to lose my job. I wasn’t doing anything wrong but I was convinced I wouldn’t be found suitable for employment at Adobe. Everyone at Omniture had to hold tight for six weeks for the deal to go through before we found out if we were keeping our jobs. We were told 9-10% of our company would be laid off. Basically my chances were great but I didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until October 26^th. My boss informed me I’d be staying on with the company and I was very excited. I helped the events team set up a big informative meeting a few days later. My coworker Brent, who was in charge of the events team, asked me to help him form an iTunes playlist for the meeting. We scanned his music and he spotted “Come Together” by The Beatles and he couldn’t help but add it to the list. As it boomed in the empty auditorium and hundreds of employees came flooding in for the meeting one of our colleagues came in with a cheeky grin on his face. He acknowledged the music playing and said, “Really, Brent? Really?” It was a funny moment.

I was able to work with Brent on projects here and there. I noticed he was gone a lot and early the next year I saw that he was growing a beard. Out of nowhere my boss told me that Brent was growing a beard to hide the marks he was getting from chemotherapy. When she saw the look of shock on my face she caught me up on the story. Brent had some sharp pain a few weeks before and went to the hospital to be checked out. The doctors found a mass on his kidney and he went in for emergency surgery to have the entire organ removed. He began an aggressive chemotherapy treatment plan and all this happened while he was planning our biggest company event of the year – Summit 2010. He was in the office as much as possible and cheerful as ever. I didn’t understand the gravity of the situation until one day I went into my boss’s office and she was very quiet. With tears in her eyes she said, “Brent’s not doing well.” He was in the ICU fighting for his life. Two weeks later he was gone. Walter Brent Pribil, a loving husband and amazing father of three was suddenly gone. I had met his wife, I had spoken Portuguese with her, I had laughed with her and in a moment I knew she would be forever changed by this loss.

Seven days later, on February 23, 2010, I attended Brent’s funeral service. I rode with some coworkers and remember laughing one minute and crying the next. The pre-funeral tension was welling up inside me. It had been a while since I’d been to a funeral and dread threatened to overwhelm me. However, the second I stepped inside the building and saw the beautiful life story display in the foyer I felt a smile light up inside of me. Brent was so special – his interests were all over the map. The chapel was full and there were chairs lined up in an overflow that covered the entire gymnasium. Brent was so loved and that feeling emanated the entire room. I found a seat at the back of the gym and noticed I was surrounded by my coworkers. I looked at all of the familiar faces and never thought I’d see all of us under once church roof at the same time. Though we came from many different backgrounds and still hold many different religious views we had all come together for Brent and his family. I kept the tears at bay during the prelude until Brent’s casket was wheeled in and I glimpsed his family following behind. The kids were so young and his dear wife was in deep grief. I had never lost either of my parents or my spouse and I wondered how a family could ever pick itself back up after something like this. Little did I know I would soon find out.

As the funeral service progressed I found out truly wonderful things about Brent. Here I had assumed he was a nice, average, middle-aged guy who had married a gorgeous Brazilian woman and probably had some nice, average kids. There is nothing average about the Pribil family. “Nice” couldn’t possibly describe the charitable nature and constant thirst for knowledge that compelled Brent to be the best person he could possibly be. He wasn’t afraid of asking the hard questions and he was always refining his wealth of knowledge. He studied the scriptures more than anyone I personally know. He was simply destined for greatness and as his son gave an extraordinary talk I knew he and Beth had firmly planted their family on the path to eternal happiness. Not a day would go by when Brent wouldn’t be missed. Not a day would go by that this family wouldn’t be truly blessed.

As I left the funeral and blindly searched for my carpool group through tear-blurred eyes I couldn’t help but shake my head and wonder how I had let myself miss out on getting to know such a great person. I resolved to be better but I admit my desire for self-improvement constantly fluctuates. Many times I’m alright with standing in stagnant waters instead of swimming upstream or braving crushing waterfalls. There are times, like in February 2010, when my path is not chosen for me. The events that unfold flood my world and force me to break through my carefully placed ceiling meant to shield me from the flowing waters above. I would not dread the journey so much if the rivers weren’t salty with tears. In the darkest times I am convinced that nothing matters besides my own comfort and the taste of my own tears. When I see others suffer and am forced to stand under the storm of others’ tears I realize there is no healing except with love and service, compassion and unity.

Brent’s brief battle with cancer was the beginning of a series of events that rapidly unfolded in the first half of 2010. It opened my heart and allowed me to be vulnerable and empathetic for the other losses that would soon follow. Brent changed my heart even though we were separated by mortality. As the next few months unraveled in a whirlpool of bottomless grief I was comforted knowing that families are forever. The shining example of the Pribil family was my light at the end of the tunnel. They would survive, and therefore so could I.

Looking back on what I’ve written tonight I seem to have taken a drastic turn from a light-hearted volleyball match to the throes of mortality cut short. While these two things can’t seem more different I must say that anyone who has lived even a little probably knows that is how life is: a roller coaster. Or, to go along with the water metaphor, perhaps it is more appropriate to say that life is a white water rapid rafting trip. One second you’re elated and the next you’re underwater, fighting to find the surface. I’ve never been white water rafting but I can only assume there is one essential key to survival: teamwork and trust borne of unity. This summer I don’t want to just get by. I don’t want to coast. I don’t want to skip along. This summer I’m going deep. I’ll break the surface and build bonds that last. I will help people come together for that is what gives me joy. I won’t do this to say, “Hey look at me, I have so many friends,” or, “Hey look at me, I’m so darn social.” Instead I’ll say, “Hey looky here, I know some amazing people. Let me tell you all about them.”

Friends Don't Let Friends Date Friends

I returned home from my mission in July 2006. Four weeks later, I moved back to P-town for my senior year of college. I had signed a contract at the same apartment complex I had lived in during my junior year (2003-2004). I wanted to return to something familiar and I was lucky enough to move in with two friends I had met during that school year. Within days of moving in we befriended two guys (Andy and Drew) who lived in the same complex. Much to our surprise, we formed a tight bond and became a solid group of five. One of my friends’ little sisters joined the group and started dating Andy. Over the next eight months we were inseparable, perhaps mostly held together by this core couple. (They had that rare luxury of meeting and immediately dating, instead of risking an existing friendship.) The six of us spent most weekends together and stayed up several nights just laughing our heads off. (That amount of time together led to a lot of inside jokes and even a few practical jokes.) We all grew close and, as was inevitable, there was a constant flux of crushes interchanging between members in the group. It seemed like every time one of us got a new roommate, a new combination of flirtations erupted.

Spring came and the couple abruptly broke up. They got back together and broke up again a few more times and the rest of us stood by trying to figure out which friendships were going to endure. The guys got a new roommate (Max) and he became one of us. Despite the ups and downs in the core relationship, we had a great spring as a group of (mostly) seven. When summer finally arrived the couple’s relationship seemed to be over for good. My two roommates moved out and suddenly we were down to a group of four – the three guys and me. I had never seen myself as the type to hang out with a bunch of guys all the time but that is definitely how I’d define the summer of 2007. It was also the summer I was graduating and preparing to move back to California for graduate school. In the midst of this upcoming transition, something interested happened. All of a sudden I realized I was about to leave college having never dated anyone. By this point Max and Drew were dating other girls in the ward and that left Andy and I with a lot of time to ourselves. I told Drew that I had a crush on Andy and he told me I should tell him. After all, I was going to be moving to California in a month and I could at least have some fun before I left. The thought of telling Andy really scared me but I considered my options. It went something like this:

Andy is one of my closest friends BUT

Is it more important to have friends or to DATE?

Well, it is probably more important to date.

Is there a chance that I’m going to have guy friends after I get married? PROBABLY NOT

Well, why not get rid of some of them by trying to date them?

HEY! Sounds like a great plan!

To make a LONG story short, I told Andy I wanted to date him. Andy first said yes he’d like to date, then he said wait he’d like to think about it, then one day later he said yes he’d like to date, then nine hours later he said wait maybe not, then three days later he said, "Let’s not." It was pretty devastating because a few weeks later I found out he had “gotten back together” with my friend’s little sister. I decided to cut my losses, finish out the summer, and move back to California.

In the short month I had left I stopped paying attention to Andy and another guy started paying attention to me. I ended up ditching grad school to continue dating him. Drew, Andy and Max were all very surprised to hear I decided to stay after all. By the end of the year my new relationship was over (and so was Andy’s) and I was back to spending most Friday and Saturday evenings on their couch watching TV.

The next big change came in the fall of 2008. After knowing me for more than two years, Andy kissed me. We decided to date. I was really thrilled but the memory of our fake-out dating episode in the summer of 2007 kept coming back to haunt me. I couldn’t seem to shake my insecurities and by this point I had few friends besides these three guys. I worried that if my relationship with Andy crumbled, I would also lose Drew and Max. By now our friendships were no longer something I half-considered throwing away in the name of dating. This relationship had to work.

It didn’t.

When I sensed trouble (which happened early and often during our two-month dating stint), I would panic. Tension was always present as I tried to figure out how to shift from being friends to being a couple. There were a few moments when everything was perfect and I cling onto them even though I have no right to. One night in January Andy came over and told me, “I’m thinking I don’t want to date anymore.” He said he still wanted to be friends but I didn’t see him until Max’s wedding in March of 2009. Andy brought his new girlfriend to the reception and it was completely devastating. I recoiled and kept my distance until duty called and I had to attend Drew’s birthday dinner in June. Andy brought yet another new girlfriend (how many times would I have to see myself replaced?) and I couldn’t even look at them across the table. I just wanted everything to disappear.

2009 was proving to be quite a pill. Luckily I was able to pull myself together and act normal during the fall. I grew to really like Andy’s new girlfriend and my “old school” group celebrated my 26th birthday at my apartment along with all of the new friends I had made in the guys’ absence. Soon the snow started falling and the year began to draw to an end. One night in December Andy called me and I thought maybe he and Drew wanted to celebrate the end of finals. It would be just like old times. When I picked up the phone I could tell there was something very different in his voice. I said, “You’re engaged, aren’t you?” He said yes. I was happy. He told me a few of the details and I was proud of the work he put into ring shopping and planning the proposal. I hung up the phone. I told myself, “I’m happy for him.” Then I cried and cried.

Andy got married exactly one year after Max. I was out of the country and missed the wedding but I suppose that was a blessing in disguise because I still had trouble looking at the invitation. I needed more time. It is hard to believe that 2010 is almost over but I have been able to see the group a few times. Last Friday we were all together celebrating my birthday. We were at a comedy show and Drew proposed to his girlfriend on stage and I was once again reminded that I am the seventh wheel. Not the third, not the fifth. The seventh. I guess that’s what I get for turning 27. I sometimes wonder if I should continue clinging onto these friendships in hopes that when I get married I will be in full standing with them and get invited on all of the their “couples” outings. Then I wonder if any amount of inclusion could be worth all of the heartache and the constant reminders that they’ve moved on with their lives and I can’t seem to catch up.

As the memories of these last four years distill and float through my mind, let me leave you with some final words of advice: Friends don’t let friends date friends. Friends are precious, but most of them are temporary. If you think you can put a friendship on the line and snatch it back the second you break up with someone who had been your friend, you are mistaken. The people we love most are the ones who are capable of hurting us the most. This has been proven to me over and over again. Life is unpredictable and it rarely follows the course we have set. Instead, go with the flow. Just try to not break too many hearts in the process, especially those of your friends.

The Revolving Door

Revolving doors can be a little tricky. Sometimes they are the only means of entering flashy corporate centers and elegant hotels. If you get caught staring at the scenery for too long you may miss your chance to get out of the glass cylinder. If you push too hard on the door in front of you, everyone else inside has to pick up their feet to avoid getting smashed. Its kind of like stepping onto a "down" escalator with your hands full - you have to time it perfectly. If not, it's dominoes all the way down. The more I travel the more I find myself dodging revolving doors and the contents they constantly spill onto the floor - people who are usually looking up at the ceiling or side to side, but hardly paying attention to what's right in front of them. Every once in a while a person comes out of the revolving door that you were supposed to meet. They aren't another obstacle to avoid, instead they're there to fulfill some purpose in your life. You see them for the first time and you swear you've recognized them from a distant memory. Somehow, in all of life's chaos you can find a dear friend who you feel like you've known forever. I've seen several close friends appear from and disappear into the revolving door, and I've taken a couple turns inside myself. Every time I come out I try to remember to watch out for what's in front of me, but many time's I'm caught looking right, left, up or back. Sometimes it's much easier to live in the past and try to ignore the ever encroaching and uncertain future.

Let's start with where I'm most comfortable: the past. I lived in the same house from the time I was two until I was 19-years-old. My parents still live there today. Being in one city for such a long time has allowed them to form deep, lasting relationships that span three decades. My mom did full-time day care for six children (ages 1-3) until I graduated from high school in 2001. When I was two a very special one-year-old came to our home to interview for a spot vacated by a recently "graduated" toddler. Her name was Naomi and her mom was Bonnie. After talking to my mom and watching the other children, Bonnie felt this would be a good place for her daughter. However, her husband had to give the final okay. When he came to see my house my dad happened to be there on a break from work. They realized they had known each other in elementary school and he gave Bonnie approval to bring Naomi to our home. My earliest memory is of Naomi sitting next to me on the couch. The quiet baby with chubby cheeks was looking at me with big brown eyes. During our first years together I just called her "Baby," not only because her first name was so difficult to say, but also because she was as bald as could be. When she graduated the program our moms decided to keep her on the roster and she continued coming to day care until she was 11. Their decision affected the rest of my life. Though I often terrorized Naomi when we were younger, we became best friends. To this day she is the kindest friend anyone could ask for. She was my constant during times of change as people slipped in and out of my life's revolving door.

Naomi was one grade younger than me and we went to different schools when I was in first grade. During the first week of school I met a girl named Lily. We were in the same class and one day she walked up to me on the playground and asked, "Do you want to be best friends?" I said yes. It was as simple as that. At school we were inseparable. We happened to attend the same church and our parents got to know each other a little bit. One night we had a sleepover and Lily told me she was adopted. I was very curious about the circumstances that led to her adoption but she politely informed me she didn't like to talk about it. A few years later we were attending a new school as fourth graders and Lily told me that if I met her in the library during lunch recess, she would tell me about how she was adopted. I agreed to do so and a few hours later I walked out to the playground and got swept away with the kids running for the handball court. I completely forgot about Lily. The next time I saw her she started crying and told me how I had hurt her feelings and how long she waited for me in the library. I couldn't believe I had been so stupid to forget. She told me I'd missed my chance and I regretted that day for a long, long time. A year later we were lining up outside our fifth grade classroom and I overheard one of the girls saying, "Oh Lily, I can't believe you're moving!" The words hit me like a ton of bricks. I'd never had a best friend move away. Her dad was being transferred to a city nearly three hours away and it was the worst feeling I could imagine. Lily and I had grown distant that year but I thought we would be able to reconcile in time to go to middle school together. I never got the chance to seal the rift that had formed between us. She moved a month later and left the revolving door turning in her wake.

I was beside myself when Lily moved away. Soon after her departure a new girl joined our class. She had moved from Chicago. Her name was Rosario and I wasted no time making her acquaintance. One day we were in the bathroom during recess and in the middle of our conversation I asked her if she wanted to be best friends. I think Lily must have had more tact but Rosario still agreed to my awkward proposal. The truth of it was there was a void in my heart and I was anxious to fill it. However, instead of taking the place left by Lily, a new part of my heart opened up. It was a curious sensation. Rosario, Naomi and I were able to bond together during those last years of pre-adolescence. After school the three of us would walk to Rosario's house. In her backyard we formed a secret society - The Wild Lupine Girls Club. We talked about the boys we liked and imagined adventure scenarios. We built a clubhouse in which we could only call each other my nicknames: Abe, Ro and Ouie. We were quite the trio but our bond changed when Rosario and I moved on to seventh grade and left Naomi at our elementary school. Ro and I were on our own in a whole new world: a large campus surrounded by walls scrawled with graffiti and chain link fences topped with barb wire. It was a place where your lunch money would disappear faster than a magic coin and cliques changed faster than my constantly fluctuating grades. We formed a new trio with my neighbor Enrique. Ro and Enrique's conversations in Spanish would blend with other students' chatter in various African and Asian dialects. This new place was a little scary, but facing it together made it a little easier. At the end of our first year Rosario told me terrible news. Her family was moving to a town 15 miles away. (You're probably thinking, "That's not so terrible," but keep in mind we didn't have drivers licenses or the internet. Our best chance at keeping in touch was on the phone and I'm horrible at talking on the phone.) She would be attending a new school in the fall. We wouldn't be able to experience eighth grade together, let alone our first year of high school. Again I was devastated. I didn't want her to slip through the door. We maintained contact as best we could. Our moms were great sports and often drove us to see each other. By the time we were free to drive to see each other, we had grown apart - something I'd sworn would never happen.

In high school I missed Rosario constantly, but Naomi and I were reunited when she entered ninth grade. Wherever Naomi was I felt at home. Bonnie had become a second mom to me and although the two of them had moved apartments a couple of times Bonnie always kept Naomi in my school district. I knew they'd never leave me and it brought me comfort every day. My high school years flew by and in 2001 it was time to move on to junior college. Again Naomi and I would be separated but I counted on it only being for one year. One of my friends from church was facing a similar situation. Kyla was a year older than her best friend and we were both headed to the JC to figure out majors and game plans for transferring to universities. That first year together allowed us to bond quickly as we were both missing the daily reassurance we'd had from our lifelong best friends. I thought I was too old to have another best friend but I was repeatedly proven wrong. Naomi was accepted to a university in Hawaii and despite our efforts to maintain contact over e-mail, our bond weakened. I felt guilty for growing so close to Kyla but I needed someone who was close by that I could share things with. I needed stability and a safety net. My time to leave home was quickly approaching and Kyla encouraged me to pursue my goals, even if it meant we'd be separated.

In 2003 it was finally time for me to leave home. I'd never thought the day would come when I'd leave a friend behind but I packed my things and walked through the revolving door. On the other side I was surrounded by new streets and faces. P-town was a young, happy college town bustling with excitement and social energy. I tried to assimilate but it was hard to ignore all of the things I was missing at home 800 miles away. I looked at my new surroundings as nothing more than a temporary home (after graduation I planned to promptly return to my hometown or move to a city within a comfortable driving distance). Two months after my arrival in P-town I turned 20 and celebrated with a few new friends as well as some old friends from my hometown. Kyla had moved to P-town that month and my mom sent her to my birthday party with a customized chocolate chip cake with Dream Whip frosting. I began to think this new life might be bearable. Kyla was a steadying force in months leading up to Christmas. She was willing to drive us around on days when the snow fell thick and the roads were covered in deep slush. One day we counted five accidents and seven wrecked cars on the main road. Kyla drove on fearlessly. There was just one little problem: she had a boyfriend. He was living in O-town and there was some ring shopping going on. You know, the kind of ring shopping that could only mean one thing: everything's going to change again. I tried to absorb every moment of free time with Kyla but on the morning we drove to the airport to fly home for Christmas I knew that time was almost up. They became engaged on December 30th. Kyla moved back to my hometown and was married at the end of my second semester of junior year. I had always heard that marriage spelled "doom" for friendships but she didn't allow that to happen to us.

Looking back it seems like everything moved a little faster after Kyla got married. I hurriedly finished my junior year and left on a mission to Brazil the following winter. Naomi was married a year later and I was so sad to miss her wedding. When I got back from my mission in 2006 Kyla was pregnant with her first child. Eight months later I called Naomi to tell her I got into graduate school and she had news too - she was having a baby boy. I thought it was curious that life had sped right on without me. How was it that my two closest friends were already married and having babies? Was I on the right track? I tried to not let it occupy my mind. The summer of 2007 was a whirlwind and I withdrew from my graduate program with the strangest desire to stay in P-town and actually have fun instead of studying all the time. Now, three years later, I finally see this place as my home. I no longer pretend I'm just a visitor here. Kyla still lives in California with her husband and two daughters but Naomi, her husband, and son have moved to T-town, 45 minutes north of P-town. Although I don't see her nearly as much as I should (my fault), it is very comforting to know that she is so close. Bonnie also recently moved to T-town and again I feel like I have one more family member nearby. I had lost contact with Rosario for five years but she found me on Facebook a few months ago and seeing her name in my inbox was one of the happiest moments in recent memory. I'm just waiting for the day that Lily finds me on Facebook. I search for her every once in a while but I have no idea where she is or what she's doing.

Now we've made it to the part where I'm least comfortable: the future. I'm 26-years-old and I don't really know what to think about that. 27 is up next in October and I am pretty sure I don't care that I'm single. (I "care" but I don't "care," if you know what I mean.) It would be really nice to eventually "catch up" to my friends but I guess there really is no catching up. Time seems to get tangled and accelerated amongst life's constant changes... everyone is on a different escalator, elevator, or moving sidewalk and despite my best efforts many are still managing trips through the revolving door. Years seem to fly by and although I can see my closest friends in my mind's eye we are all in different parts of life's lobby - some going up, some going down, some backwards, some back around. One day I might get up to the same floor as them, but by then we may be incredibly different people. Dear friends continue to enter and leave the lobby. Some return and some do not. I watch them come and go and wait to find one who will never leave me. Until then, I have my eye on the shiny glass revolving door framed in polished metal with an ear attuned for the slightest prompt that I should take another trip outside of my comfort zone. I know timing is everything, and for now I perform the delicate balancing act of practicing patience and taking chances. As for today... I think it's time to jump on a "down" escalator with my hands full and see what happens!